Beyond Broken
by crittle247
Summary: "The feeling of everything that he ever loved and cared for being taken away from him still echoed in his soul, despite the fact that the sands of time had given it all back to him." How do you fix something that is beyond broken?
1. A Second Chance

_I know that this storyline has been done already…Dastan dealing with the aftermath and need to tell others what had happened…but here is my take of what could happen after the movie ended. Let me state off first that this is more of a Dastan/family story and not so much a Dastan/Tamina one. Tamina is just like everyone else and has no memories of what happened, it does not just all come back to her because she is the high priestess, bla, bla, bla... But this story is full of Dastan in anguish, and what I hope to have written a very real, human-reaction to all of the trauma he had lived through, and the pain of having all those memories and emotions still within him and still having to go on with life. _

_This first chapter is taken from the movie. It is the scene when Dastan is sent back in time and has to convince his brothers of Nizam's plot. But I have filled it with what I believe was going through Dastan's mind. I hope you all enjoy, and please shoot me a review; I'm a nut for those little things ;)_

**Chapter One: A Second Chance**

It was loud; impossibly loud. The Sands of Time surged around Dastan violently tossing him like branches of a palm in a storm. The pain from his wounds, and the fatigue from constantly fighting for his life, made his mind even weaker to comprehend whether he was up, down, or even if the mystical dagger was still in his grasp. Everything was a jumbled mess as his body was forced to surge backwards through time. Dastan had no idea if he had stopped his uncle's plan. For all he knew, they were being sent to a time where he was not yet born.

Slowly the pain ebbed away. His body stopped spinning and somehow his feet found solid ground. Dastan worked desperately for his foggy mind to clear as he now found himself no longer in a cavern, but in the streets of Alamut. He barely had time to feel the relief that he had stopped Nizam's attempt before his mind started to doubt. Had he actually lived a life that had already played through all that was happening around him? Or did he just have one hell of a heat stroke and hallucinated everything.

"Prince Dastan! Prince Dastan."

Dastan automatically turned around upon hearing his name amongst the fading roar of an ending battle. Shock overtook his dust covered face when his eyes landed on his best friend, who had died weeks ago according to his memory. However, here was Bis, smiling at him and looking pretty lively. It was all too surreal to grasp.

"Bis, you're here," he spoke in disbelief. He lifted his hand to touch his friend's chest to make sure he was real and not a mirage. That is when he finally took noticed the dagger which was firmly grasped in his hand. It worked, he thought bleakly.

"Of course I'm here." Bis glanced down at the hand on his armored chest, confused at the Prince's statement. Yet, he thought nothing of it, as he looked back up at the face of the man who brought victory to the Persian Empire. "Our men have surrounded Alamut's palace," he informed with triumph.

Dastan could not help but keep glancing down at Bis's chest. It was like he was waiting for the blood to start dripping down his chest just like one of those many nightmares Dastan suffered during his escape.

"The battle is over," Bis explained softly. Concern started to overtake the joy of victory as Bis noticed more of Dastan's odd behavior. Something was not right, the young Persian prince acted disoriented, confused.

Those words snapped Dastan into the cold reality he was now in. He knew all too well of what would happen. He would rather die than live through it all again. "Not yet," Dastan replied with his adrenalin rising once more. With one last quick glance at Bis, Dastan reached for his other scimitar and raced off to the palace. Last time he strolled into the high temple just as Tus was giving Tamina the ultimatum of marriage or death. Dastan couldn't let it play out like that this time. No, he had to make it before they even step foot into the palace.

The trumpets blasted the victory proclamation that sent the Persian army into an uproar of cheers. The ranks gathered at the stairs of the Alamut palace, awaiting the arrival of the royal family to officially claim victory.

"Wait!" a shout of desperation emitted from the crowds. Prince Dastan weaved in and out of his people, pushing his body with all he had just to get in front of his brothers. "Wait!" He had to stop his uncle. He must convince Tus to not go through with this plan that was built solely on lies.

Dastan made it to the staircase just as his brothers dismounted their horses. He pushed through the crowds, taking steps two at a time. "Wait," he gasped out. He wished the men around him would just stop padding his back in celebration and get out of his way.

"Brave soldiers of Persia," Dastan shouted over the cheers, when he reached a high enough place to be seen by all. "We have been deceived into attacking this Holy City!" He lifted his hand that had a firm grasp on his duel scimitars, gesturing at the palace behind him. "Alamut has no weapon forges!"

"Dastan!" Tus shouted getting the attention of his brother, his voice dropping after looking around at the men that surrounded them. "Have you gone mad?"

Dastan kept his eyes on his uncle, watching him place a hand on Tus's shoulder as he moved past the Crown Prince. "I cannot stand silent in the face of treachery," Dastan explained with a deathly calm falling upon his outer appearance even though inside, his mind still rang with never ending turmoil.

He dare not turn his back on Nizam as he watched his uncle step around him to take the higher ground. "This war was set up by one trusted above all else, our Uncle Nizam!" Dastan declared with an accuse finger pointed at the man.

"Dastan has fought hard today, perhaps too hard!" Nizam quickly tried to discredit. "What he needs now is to get out from under this burning sun to rest, gather his wits!" he laughed off.

Dastan couldn't help but shake his head at his uncle's attempt to play off this charge against him. The army let out a laugh, and he could feel his heart pound wildly in his chest. He turned and saw that his two brothers smiled at their uncle's jab, but their smiles faltered quickly at seeing his face.

Oh his brothers, how could they ever know the things he was now burden with? He had to make them see. He couldn't let them die… not a second time.

"The weapons we found are forgeries! There are no weapons here, Uncle," he spat, "and you know it!" Dastan turned back and saw the cockiness in Nizam's face. That face, the man that Dastan had once looked up to, was planning to take the crown by any means. He could feel the rage building within him. "And the spy who supposedly intercepted them was hired by you, to persuade ALL OF US to invade ALAMUT!" he yelled as all of his rage, anger, and frustration finally spilled out into his voice.

"What is this, Dastan? Victor's remorse?" Nizam continued to play off surprised but not put off. "You yourself led the attack! Brought us this great triumph!" The crowd went into an uproar at the last statement but on the inside Nizam was beginning to panic. There was no good reason why his curbside nephew should know these things.

"I should never have let the attack happen!" Dastan looked at his brother's disbelieved face. His words seemed so harsh and cruel especially among so many witnesses. His voice dropped as his older brother slowly moved towards him. Dastan hated doing this to him. "I knew in my heart that it was wrong."

Dastan then turned and walked up and got right into his uncle's face and spoke only loud enough for him to hear alone. "It will never be you. You will never be king. You don't have the heart." Dastan felt the smile form on his lips, as words came to mind that he knew would cut through Nizam better than any sword. He grounded every word into his Uncle just as the older man had twisted his thumb into his wounded side not even ten minutes prior.

"You will die in the shadow of a great man."

When Nizam went for is sword, Dastan all but spoke for him to attack, for his fate would then be sealed. However, Nizam let go of his sword and raised his hands, silently telling his nephew that it would not be that easy.

"Get him down from there before he makes an even bigger fool of himself!" Garsiv shouted to one of the guards out of aggravation. Dastan glared at Nizam's smug features. He would not let him win.

"Tus," Dastan turned around, totally ignoring the guard, and went straight for his brother. Panic started to once again fill him, as this was the last chance for Dastan to convince his brother to not allow this attack continue before barging into the palace. "Before you left Nasaf, Father told you this 'that a true king considers the advice of counsel, but he always listens to his own heart'."

Now, Tus was feeling truly unsettled by the events folding out in front of him. His little brother was acting odd enough and making the most gravest of accusations against family no less, yet here Dastan stood before him speaking with knowledge that should not be within him.

"Father and I were alone. How could you know that?" Tus asked trying to grasp this ever changing conversation.

"He was right," Dastan ignored the question. "He knows us, and he knows what we're capable of. Just listen to your heart," Dastan nearly pleaded.

"He defies your orders in the attack and now wants to turn back," Nizam spoke up. He would not be overshadowed.

Dastan stared intently at his brother trying to hold in all the emotion that was welling up inside. Having his uncle stand so close to his big brother, sent fear through him as the memory of Nizam spilling his brother's blood flashed in his mind. Dastan felt his lip start to tremble. So much was at stake.

"Tus, take measure here," Nizam advised as he tried to remain superior in appearance.

Dastan nodded at his uncle's words, praying hard that Tus would take heed of their father's words and do the right thing. The Crown Prince kept shifting his stare between a man that was family by blood, and the man that was his brother by heart. The tension was almost too much for Dastan to bear, his eyes started to burn with pleading tears, his throat closing up as all he could do was stand there and wait for Tus to make his decision. It all came down this, and Dastan knew that if Tus did not believe him, that he would be left with no choice but to kill their uncle himself. Dastan would be put to death, but at least his brothers and father would still live, and Tamina and the power of the dagger would be safe. It's what he'd think a great man would do.

"The spy knows the truth. Find the spy!" Tus finally decided. How he ended up is such a difficult place as choosing between his uncle and brother, Tus didn't know. However, he'd be damned to trust emotions alone when dealing with a matter that held such importance. Yes, finding the spy would answer things.

Dastan felt a wave of relief wash over him like cool water by that demand.

"Bring him to me! We'll wring it from him!" Tus affirmed loudly.

Dastan turned and faced his uncle with a confident expression of victory. He took a moment to take in the confused and defeated face of Nizam before turning his back on him to follow his brothers down the stairs. _'We'll see what he has to say now,_' Dastan thought.

He took only a few steps before he heard a sword being unsheathe. With quick reflexes, Dastan spun around just to see his uncle lunge at him. Instantly Nizam's personal guards surrounded Dastan and attacked him with their spears. It was three against one, but Dastan was so tired of being attacked by his own people, that the Prince showed no mercy and disposed of the guards quickly with just a few skilled slashes. He could only take a breath before Nizam himself grabbed another sword from one of the shocked bystanders and charged at his nephew with a wild fury of a man who has just lost his dream. Dastan, taken only partially by surprise, had to throw himself backwards to get away from tip of his slashing sword. Dastan's back hit the stairs rail and was quickly disarmed by Nizam. A shout of surprise escaped from Dastan, as he managed to grab the wrists of his uncle before he was sliced to ribbons. Using the last bit of strength he had, Dastan used Nizam's momentum and threw him over the edge.

The crowd was in shock. No one had moved to neither aid in the fight nor try to stop it due to who the battle was with. The bond of family was well known within the ranks of the army as well as the nation, so no one was mentally prepared for such treachery.

Dastan leaped down and stood over his fallen uncle shaking his head at the last failed attempt of a desperate man. He bent down, placing his hand and weight down on Nizam's chest so he could barely take breath. "You had what every man could ever dream of, love, respect, and family. But that wasn't enough for you, was it?" Dastan spat on the ground, though for Nizam, it felt as if his face that was spat upon.

Dastan moved away from his uncle and retreated to his brothers. His energy was fading, everything that was happening, and everything that had happened in an unknown past, was quickly taking its toll on him. If it wasn't for Tus quick action, Dastan would, surly in that very moment, be breathing his last breath at the hands of his uncle's blade. Yet, Tus hadn't looked away. The Persian army went into an uproar of shocked chatter at the sight of the Crown Prince running his sword into the King's brother.

Nizam didn't even have the chance to be in disbelief, as he slumped down to the ground dead.

Tus was nauseated, angry and confused all at once, for he just killed his beloved uncle.

Dastan put his hand on Tus's shoulder giving his brother thanks and comfort to what just happened. Tus grasped his brother's arm and the two of them shared a look relief that the other was alive. Likewise, Garsiv too put a hand on Tus' shoulder thankful as well that his little brother was saved. Tus threw is arm around Dastan and led him into the crowd of cheering Persians and away from their treacherous uncle's dead body. They had much to talk about in private before addressing the Princess of Alamut.


	2. Coming Undone

_Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) is a mental health condition that's triggered by a terrifying event. Symptoms may include flashbacks, nightmares and severe anxiety, as well as uncontrollable thoughts about the event._

_Many people who go through traumatic events have difficulty adjusting and coping for a while. But with time and taking care of yourself, such traumatic reactions usually get better. In some cases, though, the symptoms can get worse or last for months or even years. Sometimes they may completely shake up your life._

**Chapter Two: Coming Undone**

The moon was shining bright over the city of Nasaf. The royal palace, home to the Persian King Sharaman, shimmered in its soft moonlight. Persian guards roamed the quiet halls of the palace, or stood watch at their posts, while the rest of the city slept. It had been an eventful two weeks to say the least, and it had taken a toll on the royal family. However, out of the ashes of a grave mistake, came hope for two nations in becoming allies with the up and coming marriage of Persia's young Prince and Alamut's one and only Princess.

Yet, as the entire world seemed to be in tranquil peace, in one chamber of the palace, a soul was tormented with past events that did not, and would not happen. Prince Dastan, the Lion of Persia, wrestled within silk sheets that tangled around his limbs. Beads of sweat coated his tense body, and his long dark hair was a matted mess on his forehead. Images of his father burning to death, his best friend being stabbed, Garsiv murdered by a Hassasin, Tus killed by his uncle, and the face of the woman he had come to love slipping from his fingers to fall to her death, plagued his dreams. The feeling of everything that he ever loved and cared for being taken away from him still echoed in his soul despite the fact that the Sands of Time had given it all back to him. However, with all that aside, Nizam's betrayal was very much real and the shockwave, that had rocked the entire family, could still be felt by all.

Blue eyes shot open as hands grasped his side in pain from a wound that did not exist but the feeling of his uncle's fingers digging deep into his flesh could still be felt. Dastan let his arms fall onto the plush bed as reality slowly came back into view. He rolled onto his back and stared at the detailed, hand-crafted ceiling in disbelief. The Great Lion of Persia was unaware of the tears streaming down his face. How long would those images and feelings stay fresh in his mind? It had been already two weeks since the battle on Alamut.

Suddenly, the doors to his chambers were breached as two figures led the way with a handful of guards behind them, and the burst of sound, awoken the warrior within Dastan. Within the darkness Dastan sprung from his bed, reaching for his duel scimitars that were kept at arm's reach from the bed. His heart was racing as he was posed ready to attack the intruders. He distanced himself from his bed, giving more room to maneuver without knocking into anything. The invaders stopped just past the doors, and Dastan waited for them to make the first move.

"Dastan, are you alright?" The voice of his older brother Tus eased the young Prince to lower his swords, slightly.

"We heard shouts coming from your chambers," Garsiv informed, holding his own sword which was still sheathed in his hands.

Both brothers were on high alert upon seeing their adopted brother poised, ready to attack. Tus stood by the door as Garsiv carefully moved farther in the room, checking to see if there was an intruder hiding in the massive chamber. However, as he did so, Garsiv kept his body facing his younger brother and made no sudden moves. The fact that Dastan had yet to lower his weapons made Garsiv very cautious.

Dastan was unable to speak. For the single flame from an oil lamp, and the two torches that the guards held behind the royal family, casted shadows on his brothers that made Dastan's mouth taste of bile. His eyes squeezed shut in a vain hope obliterate the memories, but it remained, like a cancer slowly eating away at his soul.

Garsiv gave Tus a nod that the room held no threat. That should have eased Tus' worry, but Dastan still acted like he was in real distress, and he knew something more was wrong.

"Leave us," Tus ordered the guards, this was now a family matter. "What ails you, Brother?" he asked when the guards left, shutting the doors behind them.

Dastan opened his eyes and was met by wide eyes full of concern staring back at him. Lowering his scimitars, Dastan found his voice spoke, but it sounded broken and weak. He quickly cleared his throat and spoke a bit stronger. "It is nothing, Tus. I am sorry to have caused you such worry."

The formality in his voice caused his big brother to worry even more. "The siege on Alamut was not a bloody one, thanks to your brave actions. I cannot imagine that a battle, that occurred weeks ago, still plagues your dreams," Tus began to analyze.

Garsiv lightly chuckled. "Perhaps it is the marriage to the Princess that has our brother frighten."

Dastan did not hear the soft laughter of his brother's attempt at amusement. His mind was snapped to thoughts of the Princess that he had fallen in love with during those weeks of hell that had now never happened. Back when he had laid eyes on Alamut's Princess, he could not stop his soul from crying out, first from joy that she was alive, then quickly slipping into a painful stab of knowing that the woman he was now betrothed to was not the same woman he had fallen in love with. To this Tamina, he was just the Lion of Persia and not Dastan. He felt his eyes start to burn. How long would it be until the Princess would become _his _Tamina once more?

Dastan stumbled back to his bed, sitting on the very edge when the back of his knees came in contact with the bed. His hands seemed to forget what they were holding, allowing the two swords to fall to the floor with a loud crash of steel.

Tus silenced Garsiv with a slight raise of his hand and quickly moved to sit beside Dastan. For a man who never thought twice about jumping off of rooftops or scaling walls barehanded, Dastan was showing an un-normal amount of fear and uncertainty. The sweat on his brow and the lack of color on his face almost made Tus want to call the healers.

"Is it Uncle's betrayal that still troubles you?" Tus guessed again to what could cause this strange behavior; he did not want to cause an unnecessary scene.

"Part of it," Dastan softly said.

"What is the rest of it?"

Dastan looked at his older brother's eyes for a second before dropping his gaze to his neck. It was too dark to make out if it was just a shadow across his brother's neck or the bloody slash caused by Nizam's sword, either way it still unnerved him greatly. Dastan's hand slowly reached out to touch Tus' neck, but quickly diverted his hand to his own and acted like he was just scratching a sudden inch.

"You would think me to be crazy," Dastan finally said letting his hand fall back onto his lap. He himself was beginning to think so.

"Dastan," Garsiv said with humor in his voice and moved closer to the two. "We already think that."

"When-I mean…" his voice got caught in his throat, unable to speak what was really going on. Logic told him everything was fine but his heart was still distressed and the post trauma of it all remained.

Needing space, Dastan rose from his bed and moved to an open window. His sweat-soaked body shivered slightly when a breeze of cool night air hit him. The dagger and the Sandglass were to be a secret, a secret that he should not even know about. Tamina might believe him, if he ever told her about what happened, but she would probably kill him for he was just a Persian that attacked her Holy City. His head dropped down to his bare chest. He could never tell his brothers what truly happened. This was a secret that he would be forced to forever carry alone.

"My dear Brother, why do you shut us out?" Tus said with a sad sigh. "Would you be more opened to speak with Father? Or should I send for Bis?"

"Tus," Dastan spoke softly, looking up at the moon in the sky. "I mean no disrespect towards you and Garsiv. It is just…I … you were all killed, and there was nothing I…."

A hand gently grasped his shoulder, and Dastan couldn't help but jump at the unexpected contact. "It was only a dream, little brother." Tus soothed, trying to ease the rising sorrow that Dastan was having a hard time keeping in his grasp. "As you can see, Garsiv and I are still very much alive, and I can call on Father so you can see that he is unharmed as well if you need me to."

"No," Dastan turned quickly to face his brother when he felt the hand drop from his shoulder. "No need to wake Father. It was just a dream, like you said," he tried to right off. But it would never be a dream to Dastan because even though time erased their deaths he still had the memory of it all.

"I shall have some wine brought to you, so that you may drink the dream way," Garsiv said as he made his way to the door, clearly stating that he had had enough of brotherly bonding for one night. He was tired, it was late, and Dastan was in no trouble. He stopped briefly at the threshold and turned slightly towards his two brothers. "You are stronger than that to allow mere dreams to torment you, Little Brother." With that, Garsiv left.

Dastan couldn't hide his smile that slowly crept up into his face. Garsiv was not the type of man to show feelings that could be considered weak, even to his own family. Just seeing Garsiv race into his chambers ready to aid his little brother, was enough proof for Dastan on how much he cared for him, but hearing those words from his warrior brother, warmed his heart.

"Garsiv is right, however, you will never be seen as weak for having bad dreams, for they get the best of all of us more than we would admit. Truth is I had some the night after Uncle's treachery."

"Really?" Dastan asked in wonder.

"Yes," Tus admitted. "I kept seeing various images of you lying on the ground dead."

Dastan could not help but think if maybe somehow, Tus had fragments from using the dagger's power from that erased timeline. It was after all, a mystical device. Dastan placed a hand on Tus's chest getting the comfort in feeling his brother's beating heart. Tus grasped Dastan's forearm slightly and gave a softy smile. Moments like this made Tus wonder how anyone of them could live without the other, and prayed that they would be old and frail before he would even have to worry about that. While Dastan, prayed slightly that he would never have to relive the pain of losing his brothers again, even if that meant he would have to die first.

Dastan finally spoke. The words, however, seemed to come out of nowhere and were more to comfort Tus than anything else. "We are too stubborn to allow death to take us before we are ready."

"That we are. Now," Tus let his hand drop, and Dastan did the same, "try to get some rest. There is much planning to do for your upcoming wedding," Tus said with more light heartiness as he made his way to the door.

But there was one last thing that Dastan needed to say to say before his brother left. "Tus, thank you for trusting your heart at the steps of Alamut's."

Tus was taken off guard at the statement. He smiled awkwardly at his little brother's formality and not knowing what else to say, simply nodded in understanding and walked out from the room closing the double doors behind him.

Dastan was once again left alone with his troubling thoughts. His nightmares had been getting increasingly worse. The last few weeks, he had managed to keep himself relatively busy, and always managed to wake himself before his dreams got really bad. But now, back in Nasaf and things slowing down, it allowed his memories to run more freely in his mind. And tonight, was the worst nightmare so far, and that just made Dastan dread the nights to come.

Dastan turned back to the window with a sigh. It would be dawn in a few hours, and he really doubted that he would get any more rest tonight. Throwing a robe over his bare chest, he leaped onto the window's rail, but before he could move any future, a knock at his door stopped him. A servant entered with a pitcher of wine, but made no attempt to move any farther, for seeing the Prince perched on the window's rail was something he was not expecting.

"Bring it forth," Dastan had to command.

When the pitcher was in reach, Dastan grabbed it and continued to climb up the outside wall to a ledge a few meters above the window. He leaned back against the wall and stared out onto Nasaf bringing the wine to his lips and took a long drink. The wine did not touch his lips again. His thoughts took the reins of his mind, thinking about everything, and nothing at the same time. Dastan stared up at the star-studded sky, hardly feeling the still of the night air.


	3. Faith of a Father

**Chapter Three: Faith of a Father**

Dastan awoke to the sun creeping up the palace walls instantly bringing warmth to the air. The young prince smiled at the morning and for a moment, was seeing the world without the Sands of Time getting into his eyes. The sweet silence of the waking morning sang in his ears. He drank it in, savoring the peace. However, all too soon, the peace left him as his mind was filled of all the Alamut soldiers that were slaughtered and the families now without husbands, fathers and sons. The warmth of the sun seeped through his tanned skin, but it still was not enough to melt away the chill of his dream that slowly over took his conscience mind. Somehow, he needed to undo his uncle's actions that were unable to have been erased.

"Do you know what I was told the moment I stepped out of my chambers?" a voice drifted up.

Dastan looked down to find where this sudden voice came from and saw his best friend sticking his curly black haired head out of the window below. "And what was that, Bis?" he shouted down with a smirk. He knew that he had a witty remark saved for questions such as this, but his mind was unable to find it fast enough.

"'Prince Dastan is on the roof again. Get him down'!"

Dastan laughed. He couldn't help it. The statement took the edge off the chill. "Fifteen years and they're still not used to this!" he gestured to the rooftop around him.

Bis smirked. "Well, I'm pretty sure that you are the first royal family member to climb all over the palace in the history of the Persian Empire. Now get down before you break your neck and I lose mine!"

In a quick and seamless motion, Dastan jumped off the ledge, grabbed onto a decorative trim molding as he fell, and used gravities momentum to swing himself through the window, landing safely on his feet with ease. He glanced back up at the window realizing he had left the pitcher of wine on the ledge.

"King Sharaman wants you and your brothers to meet him in the throne room before morning meal," Bis informed Dastan making him forget about the beverage.

Dastan shrugged off his rob, tossed it to his friend. "My father; did he inform you as to why?" He moved deeper into his chambers to get appropriately dressed for the day.

"No my Lord," Bis said playing his role of servant, but quickly dropped the formality since it was just the two of them. "But would it make any difference?" He placed the robe neatly folded on the bed and noticed the Prince's duel scimitars on the floor. He bent over and picked them up with curiosity to the odd placement.

"Very much so," Dastan emerged from behind his changing divider acting serious. However his blue eyes betrayed him as they were full of mischief. "How would I know what color tunic I should wear?"

Bis just scoffed as he set the weapons on the table, "Oh, yes Sire, such a hard decision you have. Your white shirt with sand and dust stains on them or the one with wine stains. Let us not forget your sash with blood stains or the one with wine and food stains."

"See, that is two different outfits that I must choose from," Dastan pointed out as the two friends left the room.

"And how does you knowing why the King called for your audience, help you make that decision?" Bis asked in all mock seriousness.

"If it is the _King_ that is calling for me, then the dust shirt and blood sash will be more suited, for most likely we will be sent off to battle. But if it is my _father_ calling, then it will be a more joyful event-"

"So the wine stains are more suited."

"See Bis, you're getting the idea." The young prince gave the man a slap on the back. "However, if you were so inclined to do a better job of making sure my garments were properly cleaned, I would not be faced with such a complicated matter."

"There is not enough water in the Empire to get your clothes cleaner than they are."

"Then get me some new ones."

Bis let out a laugh of disbelief at his statement. "You have a dozen bran new garments that you have never worn!"

"And your point being?" Dastan asked with a smirk.

"That I should switch jobs with Roham." They shared a laugh that carried down then hall as they continued with friendly banter.

When the two childhood friends arrived at the throne room, they instantly sobered up. The King sat on his throne, while Tus and Garsiv stood off to the side. Well, Tus stood still, Garsiv paced. No one else was in the room, not even the King's guards, which was a rare thing.

"I'll see you later," Bis quietly whispered before leaving the royal family.

The freedom he had felt a moment before, dissolved as he crossed the room. "Good morning, Father." Dastan bowed slightly, showing his respects.

"Did you get enough sleep, my Son?" he asked.

Dastan hid his surprise as his eyes darted over to his two older brothers. Sharaman noticed the reaction. "Is it that strange for a father to ask his son such a simple question?"

"No, Father, it's just-"

"Your brothers did not say anything. When half of the palace is woken up by screams from a prince's chambers, word quickly spreads."

"They were only dreams, Father," Dastan said quickly hoping that the matter be dropped and the real reason for this family meeting to be addressed. '_Please let it not be.._.

"Your brothers tell me, that in those dreams, we all were killed." The king gestured to himself and his two offspring.

Dastan swore inward, shooting a look of annoyance at his brothers. "It was nothing more than the aftermath of Nizam's betrayed that caused it," Dastan explained with a hint of desperation hidden within him. He just couldn't tell them the truth and really wished that they would all leave it alone.

"My brother's actions will always haunt me for the rest of my days," his father agreed. "I pray that the bond between the three of you stays strong, for that is the sword that defends this Empire."

Dastan briefly looked away from his father, hearing words that was once said in the _other_ timeline was unsettling.

"You do not need to fear this Father," Tus spoke, "if anything, this grave mistake has brought the three of us closer."

"However," Garsiv spoke up. "There is the issue of how Dastan came to the knowledge of Uncle's betrayal that needs to be answered." Garsiv said with his usual fire as he turned to face Dastan and spoke directly at him. "A secret like that should not be kept from family. And I've waited long enough."

Blue eyes darted back and forth between the members of his adoptive family, panic slowly taking over any sense of reasoning. His mind was going into overdrive with different scenarios. If he did not tell his family what really happened, would they think that he should not be trusted? That maybe he was somehow behind it all? How would he convince them otherwise? He remembered all too clearly, on how quickly Garsiv accused him of killing their father.

Dastan's gaze rested on Garsiv, instead of seeing a face that held determination, he saw the blind furry and an axe with hatred behind each swing. "_Then god will pardon you, after your head rolls."_

"Leave me alone with your brother," the King said to Tus and Garsiv upon seeing his youngest eyes widen with worry. The Crown Prince obeyed without question, while Garsiv hesitated briefly before he stalked out. They both had really wanted to hear the answer.

"Sit, and tell me what happened," Sharaman motioned to the pillows surrounding the throne, his voice soft.

Dastan slightly obeyed, not meeting his father's gaze afraid to see eyes filled with betrayal. "_Why?" _his father's dying breath echoed in his mind.

"Well now, will you tell me what happened at Alamut?"

"I do not want to lie to you Father, but I cannot tell you the truth." Dastan said outright still not looking up.

A sigh filled the chamber. "Dastan, that is not an answer that will satisfy the Council or your brothers. Why do you feel that you cannot explain how you found out Nizam's true intent?" Sharaman spoke softly, trying to gently ease Dastan to open up.

"Because it is not my right to tell," Dastan nearly mumbled.

That was a strange answer. "Whose right is it then?"

"Alamut's High Priestess," Dastan's numbed voice answered.

"Princess Tamina?" The King couldn't hide the surprised. From Tus' report, the only time the young Prince met the Princess was after the confrontation. Dastan nodded his head slightly.

The two men sat there for a moment. For Sharaman, this wasn't where he thought this conversation would lead him, but for Dastan, he just hoped he was doing the right thing. Dastan finally looked up and locked eyes with his father and only saw compassion.

"You must believe me Father, when I say that, there are things in this world that cannot be understood, and should not be known to men. I knew in my heart that we should have never attacked Alamut. Yet, I consented and chose to lead a sneak attack to try to reduce losses on both sides. I know the battle was quick and there was no way for me to come upon the information in that short of time, but I did, and I knew it was true with every fiber in my being. I had to stop what I knew to be wrong, no matter who was ordering it. And I was afraid of what might happen if I did not act upon my feelings."

King Sharaman reached down and cupped his hands on either side of his son's face. "A great man would have acted as you did. I saw that greatness the day I saw you in the market place fifteen years ago, and I am proud at the man you have become. There is no doubt that the gods have given you wisdom, and must have had a hand in unveiling Nizam's plans to you. And if the spy is never to be found, Nizam's attack on you would have been enough proof of your claims towards him."

Sharaman let go of Dastan's face and smiled softly at his youngest son. "You do not need to worry about your brothers. I will speak to them about this, so you would not feel pressured with Garsiv's need for detailed answers."

Dastan let out a small laugh. Sharaman knew his son's all too well, "Thank you Father, for your unceasing understanding."

"I told your brother Tus, that a true king considers the advice of counsel, but always listens to his own heart. That holds true to both you and Garsiv as well."

"Yes, Father," Dastan nodded his head in agreement as if he had never heard those words before.

"Do you know why I brought you into my family?"

Dastan shook his head side to side smirking back a smile, even though he heard many different reasons why, Dastan would be lying if he said that he grown tired of hearing the answer. And after the days he had, the Young Prince wanted to hear the words once again.

"I saw a heart that was open and acted on it. A boy that helped others without thought of his own self. Tus and Garsiv needed that in their lives. With your unselfish love, it brought the three of you tighter. A king cannot stand by himself alone, he will be quickly overpowered. A king with one brother, they can defend against their enemies. But as you saw with Nizam, the bond was not as strong as I thought. But three, three that stand together will be nearly impossible to break. The way you and your brothers hold each other up, I can see that when Tus wears the crown, this Empire will have their greatest rein ever."

"Let's hope that Tus does not get the crown for many years." Dastan prayed.

King Sharaman smiled at his son, and his heart was filled with pride and love for the young man. "Well now, let's say we join your brothers for the morning meal," he said as he stood up.

Dastan followed suit, but as he looked at his father, he could not stop himself from wrapping his arms around the King. "I love you, Father," Dastan whispered softly.

Sharaman was slightly stunned at the sudden embrace, but quickly recovered and wrapped his arms around his son. "I love you too, Dastan."

"Father," Dastan spoke when they released their embrace, "before we go, there is something that I need to ask from you."

Immediately following the morning meal, Dastan headed down to the royal stables. Rather than having the servants ready his horse, Dastan sent one of the men up to his room to gather a few items while he went to get his steed, Naseen. Not nearly as famous as Garsiv's horse Aksh, Naseen was Dastan's favorite stallion and no one dared to ride him but the young prince. And one of the things that the prince had learned from Garsiv was the joy of getting a horse ready for a journey.

"Where are you planning on going?" a voice spoke up.

Dastan looked up from fastening the saddle to see his older brother staring down at him. "I am heading to Alamut," Dastan replied as he continued getting his horse ready.

"I hope you are not planning on going alone." When Tus got no response, the Crown Prince let out a sigh. "I know you forget that you are a prince sometimes, but now more than ever you should not travel alone. Take your small company along with you."

"If you are worried about the Hassansins…"

"No, I am more worried about Kosh. He might see Nizam's betrayal as a sign of weakness and attack us."

"I won't take the main roads then, I'll just cut through the Valley of the Slaves," Dastan said with a smirk. But Tus did not find that amusing.

A servant interrupted the two brothers as he handed Dastan his duel swords and pack that Tus could only guess held some clothes. "Please, for once, follow this order Brother."

Dastan let out a sigh, "very well."

"If I find out that you left alone, you will leave me no choice but to tell Garsiv that you left on one of his prize horses and let him chase you down. Am I clear?"

Dastan felt slight panic wash over him at Tus' threat; he knew all too well the feeling of Garsiv hunting him down without second thought of killing him. "I will take Bis and Roham with me," Dastan bargained, never again would he want to be chased by Garsiv.

"I said, your whole company, Dastan," Tus spoke without any intent of giving in.

But Dastan was determined that bringing along his company of twenty-five men was overkill. "Three."

"Fifteen."

"Five," Dastan held his ground. "I take five men, or I'll tell Malakeh about that time you and her sister, Delkash-"

"Alright, you win." Tus raised his hands to stop Dastan from speaking any further. "Take your five men and leave."

Tus left Dastan, who had a grin of victory on his face, wondering why his younger brother couldn't just do as he is told which would make the Crown Prince's life a lot easier. However, it did seem that the Princess of Alamut was a handful in of herself, and maybe once married, Dastan would understand how his older brothers felt about his own independence. That thought alone put a smirk on the Tus' face.

It was much later than Dastan wanted, but finally he rode out of Nasaf with five of his men. Bis and Roham road on either side of their Prince, with Habib, Rashid, and Karim right behind. They had about a ten day ride to Alamut, but with only five men all on horses, and without an army on foot behind them, they could make it in less time. When dusk came, they stopped to eat and let their horses rest. However, the moon was big, bright and they had plenty of energy still in them, so they continued on through the night, cutting another day out from their travel. Fewer nights was something Dastan wanted nothing more, for it gave him less chances of falling victim to his nightmares and showing weakness to his men, even though they were his closest friends.


	4. Victor's Remorse

**Chapter Four: Victor's Remorse**

In seven days, the royal street rebel of Persia road into the Holy City of Alamut. The city almost showed no signs that there was an attack, but Dastan knew it was just the buildings that were repaired. The people showed two types of emotions as they road up to the palace; fear and hate. Dastan felt his throat close with his own emotions, wondering if he was making the right decision. Hesitation filled him as he dismounted his horse and stood at the stairs that lead to the palace.

"_Dastan! Have you gone mad?"_

"_What he needs now is to get out from this burning sun to rest, gather his wits!" _

"_Get him down from there before he makes an even bigger fool of himself."_

He swore; his head spinning with thoughts that tangled like arms and legs in combat. The accusations, the doubt that he must be crazy, echoed in the air around him.

"My Prince, are you alright?" Roham asked upon seeing Dastan just frozen at the base of the stairs, staring out into nothing.

"…_so desperate to prove you're more than something the King scraped off the streets." _

"_I never understood why my brother brought trash into the palace."_

Nizam's words weakened Dastan's courage to take a step. He was from the streets, he had no royal presence, no real skill to stand in front of another royal court and speak on delicate matters. He didn't have Tus' negotiating skills, or Garsiv's authority power, he was just an orphan who the King saved. In what world does that make him a Prince?

"Dastan," Roham called out, giving the Prince a light tap in the arm.

Dastan was brought back to the present and noticed the worried glances from his five men. He cursed at himself inward for giving his friends cause to wonder about his welfare. Should he make a comment that he was just thinking about what happened on these steps a few weeks ago, that he doubted that he could follow through on his plans? Dastan walked up the marbled steps without saying anything, he couldn't trust what he might say, and he needed every moment to collect himself before speaking with the Princess.

"Prince Dastan, I was not expecting you to come back so soon." Princess Tamina stated as she eyed the six dust covered, sweaty Persians who stood out in contrast among the cream and gold décor of the throne room.

"If you would be so kind Princess, allow me and my men to stay in Alamut for no more than two weeks," Dastan replied with all the formality he could muster. When would it become easier? It was still hard for him not to see the Princess as the Tamina he could banter with in the erased timeline, rather than the High Priestess that still saw him as a Persian Prince.

"Aurang," she called one of her servants, "Show Prince Dastan's men to the guest chambers."

"Yes your Highness," the servant bowed at Tamina before escorting the five men out.

Dastan waited for them to leave before addressing his future wife. "There is one more thing I ask of you."

Her eyebrows rose slightly. "Oh, and what is that?"

"Do you have the final count of the men that were killed in the attack?"

Tamina's face filled with udder disgust. "Are you Persians that barbaric that you'd come all the way here just to know how many innocent men you slaughtered? If that is all you came for, you can leave Alamut right now…"

Dastan took a deep breath as the Princess continued with her insult filled ramblings. Finally he had enough, "Princess, I came here to personally speak to each family and give respect."

That quieted Tamina instantly, and Dastan had to fight back a smile. "I also come with payment to help the-"

"If you think that Persian blood money will be able to pay for my people's forgiveness-"

"You really need to get out of your city, Princess," Dastan said with frustration creeping into his voice. "We _Persians_ do have hearts. And why is it so evil to want to try and make peace between our people? I know no amount of money will bring back the lives that were lost, but shouldn't it be the decision of the widowers if they want to accept it? I'm sorry Princess that I was unable to go back in time to stop the siege, but this is the best I can do."

Tamina sat silently, staring at Dastan with a great deal of confliction, his choice of words about time made her a bit suspicious. However, maybe he was right and not all Persians were as heartless as she thought. Making up her mind, she decided to allow him to speak to the families. "Very well, I will have Asoka escort you through the city, once you get freshened up."

"Thank you, Princess," Dastan slightly bowed before leaving the throne room. It was a start.

Asoka waited outside of the home of one of the families that lost their husband in the attack. A servant stood next to him with firm hands around a giant sack that held hundreds of small bags that had ten pieces of gold coins in each of them. The door opened and Prince Dastan walked out, rubbing the left side of his face and Asoka noticed the redness that slowly took over the whites of his eyes with each stop they made. For a man that almost killed him in battle, Asoka was moved by what this Persian was doing.

"Maybe we should take a break," the Alamutain Head Guard suggested. "You have been at this for almost half of the day without stop."

"I will stop, once it gets to the hour when the city sleeps. And then I will start again when the sun rises. If you need rest, point me towards the next house and I'll meet you there." Dastan said with strong determination.

"We will rest when you do," was all Asoka said before leading the way to the next home.

The sun was way below the sandy horizon when Asoka entered the throne room where Princess Tamina sat waiting for the report. "Prince Dastan saw eighty seven of the nine-hundred and sixty-three households today. None of them refused the compensation that the Prince offered."

"Where is Prince Dastan now?" Tamina asked with some hidden surprise.

"He went to the room we provided for him and had asked if a meal could be brought to him. He had neither stopped nor ate the entire day."

"Thank you, Asoka," Tamina said kindly. Asoka bowed before heading to his own home to turn in for the night.

Tamina walked through the palace halls to the wing that honorary guest stayed. She felt she needed to speak to Prince Dastan in a less formal matter, since they were, after all, betrothed. However, when she arrived at his door she found it to be locked. She knocked, but no answer came. She tried to not let herself get annoyed at something as trivial as a locked door. Prince Dastan did have a long day, so it will just have to wait until tomorrow.

Three days later, Tamina still did not see Dastan. From dawn to dusk he, along with Asoka, were out in Alamut's streets meeting with the families of the deceased soldiers. By day five, when one of Dastan's men came to her inquiring about their Prince, Tamina started to worry. The night of the sixth day, Tamina called upon Asoka.

"How is Prince Dastan? It seems not even his own men have spoken to him in days."

"He shows signs of weariness, I am not sure if he is even sleeping at night, Princess," he answered honestly.

Tamina couldn't help notice Asoka's own weariness. "How many more are left?"

"There are still over three-hundred. Word has reached the entire city of Prince Dastan's actions and the people seemed to be touched by what he is doing."

Tamina was silent, taking in this information and she felt a strange emotion for this Persian, but she wasn't quite sure what it was.

"His heart is truly in his actions, I have no doubt in that," he informed.

She would not confess it out loud, but what Asoka just spoke, weakened the wall she had put up against the Persian Prince.

Bis was determined to speak to Dastan. In the last six days, all he saw was a brief glimpse of the Prince, and Bis did not like what he saw. So when dusk approached on the sixth night Bis snuck into Dastan's chambers and climbed out onto the slanted roof above the baloney window. He sat out there alone watching the colors of the falling sun slowly darken to black. Bis did not have to wait long until he saw a hand grasp the ledge followed by a surprised face of Dastan.

"Bis, what are you doing up here?" irritation was not lost in his voice.

Bis moved over so that Dastan could pull himself up. "Do you know I have not seen you since we first arrived here six days ago?"

"I have been busy," Dastan spoke, not looking at the man beside him.

"Why did you not tell us about your plan?"

"I honestly didn't want any of you to join me, but I had to please Tus."

"You have been at this for six straight days! How much longer are you going to do this?"

"We killed a lot of men, Bis. I am not going to stop until I speak to all of the families."

"Is this going to be a new thing that you are going to put yourself through after each battle?"

"This was no battle!" Dastan snapped. He took a deep breath, trying to gain back the control of his emotions. "I need to try and fix the damage my uncle caused."

"But why do _you_ have to do it all? You're just one man."

Silence fell between them as they turned their gazed away from each other. After some time their eyes rested on the blanket of stars above. Only then did Dastan feel ready to speak again.

Dastan spoke softly, more to himself than to his friend, "Maybe Nizam was right, and I do have victor's remorse."

"But you weren't the one to order the attack," Bis gently reasoned.

"No, I am just the man that wasn't brave enough to stop it in the first place!" Dastan raised his voice, emotion getting the better of him again. It was a sore subject.

Bis was at a loss on what to do next. Something changed in Dastan during the siege. At first it just seemed like a slight difference, Dastan always had a big heart and was generous to others. But after weeks, it seemed that something had latched onto his soul and was slowly eating away at him. Bis sighed. The two of them were always together, always had each other's back through thick and thin. So now, with the man that Bis saw as _his_ brother, getting shut out was very frustrating.

Princess Tamina walked through the palace courtyard as sleep seemed to elude her. Her thoughts kept going to Prince Dastan. The man was a mystery to her and she hated mysteries. The cool night air felt nice and the sound of the fountain's water was relaxing. She stopped and watched the moonlight dance upon the water. The dagger showed no signs that any sand was used. So how would a Persian know how much that dagger meant to her? Or was Dastan just that kind of man that gives back what is not his? His actions the last couple of days had shown her what kind of heart he had, but Dastan just giving her back the dagger still bothered her.

A thought came across her mind, it was a long shot, but she still had to check.

"No." Tamina jumped at the sudden voice that echoed through the courtyard, but she was all alone. "I'm just the man that wasn't brave enough to stop it in the first place!"

Her heart was racing as she looked all around her for the man that spoke such words. She just happened to glance up and that's when she saw two shadows on the roof, barely lit in the pale moonlight. Eyes strained to make out the shadows, it was Prince Dastan and one of his men. She was taken in slightly by the fact that they were on the roof, but what got her more was the words she just heard. Seeing him, Tamina knew it was Dastan who spoke and even though it was an echo, she could hear the regret in his voice. Part of her wanted to stay to see if she could hear more, but she had a mission.

"Sire, can you do me one thing," Bis asked after allowing a few moments of silence to let things settle. "Can you rest tomorrow and see to your own needs. Just one day, relax in the bathhouse, stay in bed the whole time, I don't care just as long as you rest and eat."

Dastan looked over at Bis and held a glare for a moment and when he spoke, his voice held all seriousness. "Are you telling me, that I smell?"

Bis nearly fell off the roof. "Is all you took away from that?"

Dastan just laughed, and Bis was less than amused, but since Dastan brought it up… "As a matter of fact, you smell terrible. Why do you think I waited for you up here? If we had this conversation in your chambers, I would have died from lack of fresh air. Seriously, you are like death himself with those bags under your eyes, and what is with that unkempt beard? So please for the sake of love and country, bathe and not just once, three to five times at least."

"I guess one day of rest will not do any harm," Dastan pleasantly consented.

"No, one more day of you _not_ bathing will cause serious harm to those around you-" Bis was cut off when Dastan took Bis' head into a head lock making the only air for his friend to breath, the so-called stench that Dastan gave off.

_Brothers…_

It took Tamina much longer then she would have liked, the collapsed tunnels forced her to take the long way. The orange glow was bright, but at the same time it was dim, as if it was tainted with something. The Sandglass looked untouched, but as she moved closer panic started to overtake her. Her hand reached up and touched a scar, the size of the dagger's blade in the glass.

"He pierced the sandglass_!" _Anger filled the princess, more on the fact that she allowed herself to feel for that Persian.

Tamina's heart then jumped in her throat when the cavern walls echoed with a bone chilling scream. It sounded like it came from her own throat. A shiver of fear trembled down her body when a screaming cry of a man reached her ears.

"_Tamina!" _

Wide eyes with fear gazed up at the Sandglass as she saw the face of Dastan shifting within the Sands of Time. Tamina frowned as images of a past that was unknown to her, swirled in the Sandglass. She watched as Dastan plunged the dagger deep into his chest. Killing snakes, and saving her and a group of strange men. She gazed with an open mouth as she sliced Dastan across the chest, then seeing the same setting, but instead of flesh being cut, it was his necklace. The dagger had been used four times before being stabbed into the Sandglass, and erasing a timeline that she knew nothing about. _That_ past was now trapped forever within those grains of sand destined to be replayed over and over.

However, even though light had been shed on how Dastan knew about the dagger's importance, it opened a lot more questions. Questions that Tamina needed answered, and she needed to know now!


	5. Scattered Pieces

**Chapter Five: Scattered Pieces**

Mid-morning came around as Prince Dastan slowly walked down the open hallway back to his chambers. Having spent all morning in the bathhouse, he was feeling really relaxed from the massage and the scented oils refreshed his skin. The air was warm around him, as it had not reached its peak in temperature, but Alamut with all its vegetation never reached the high temperatures of Nasaf. It was one of many things the Persian Prince enjoyed about this beautiful city. His stomach made it known that it had been a while since he had last had a meal and he smirked. He was thankful now that Bis forced him to have a day of rest. As Dastan reached his room, he set plans to find his men to share a meal with. However, all that changed when he found himself thrown up against a wall with a sharp dagger pressed against his throat.

"Well, good morning to you too, Princess," he said with a hint of humor in his voice. He was a bit startled but not too worried.

"How did you find out about the dagger?" she demanded in hush tones.

"You mean the one at my throat?" he asked playfully.

"I told you, do not mock me. Now answer my question, _Persian_."

Dastan could feel his smile stiffening under Tamina's cold gaze. This was not how he wanted this conversation to go, though he hadn't expected the topic to ever come up. He swallowed and could feel his skin press harder against the sharp blade. How did she find out? What was he to say?

"You were trying to kill me; twice actually. I hit the jewel on accident. Now do you mind removing your blade from my throat?" He wasn't sure to either be thankful that he could speak of it now or be concerned.

The dagger remained unmoved. "Then how did you know about the Sandglass?"

"You took me down there," he answered numbly knowing she wouldn't buy it. Why had destiny chosen him to carry such a burden?

"And why in the world would I tell a Persian about the Sandglass?" she asked untrustingly.

He rolled his eyes and sighed. "You know _Princess_, I am getting pretty tired of being referred to as _Persian_," Dastan commented with no amusement.

Tamina didn't find the comment amusing as well, and pressed the knife closer to his throat.

He knew then blood was about to be drawn and his skin would be pierced but he somehow didn't care. "My uncle wanted to use the dagger to access the Sandglass' power to go back when he and my father were young so he could allow my father to die, making him king. And _we_," he emphasized, "were trying to stop him."

She thought on that. "But the glass _has_ been pierced," she said in confusion.

So that was it, he then realized. She had figured it all out by seeing the evidence of the dagger's mark in the caverns below.

Oh gods, those caverns below… how they haunt him.

"We..." his voice dropped, _"I _was able to stop him from rewinding time that far back. The Sands brought me back to the moment before my brothers and I claimed victory on your city. Thankfully no further stress was put on the Sandglass and I was able to stop history from repeating."

There was sadness in his voice Tamina now recognized. She looked deeply into his blue eyes now without the veil of anger. She saw how his handsome face had become deeply lined since she had first met him, which reflected his trouble thoughts.

She released Dastan, and stepped back putting a fair amount of space between them. "How much did the Sands unwind?" her voice was softer now. What he just told her seemed to match some of the images she had seen in the Sandglass.

"It was almost three weeks." He did not need to say anymore, it was clear to Tamina that those weeks had to be the most horrible time of his life.

"Tell me." It wasn't a demand, and to Dastan it held the same soft and trusting tone that was held in the same words that Garsiv spoke.

"_Tell me brother."_ That moment of hope that filled Dastan before death quickly followed.

Dastan raked his hand through his damp hair and walked farther in the room, needing more distance. His mind racing with fears, doubt, heavy emotions that he did not know where to even begin. Tamina moved over and perched herself on the edge of the bed as she watched him pace back and forth. Her heart was racing as she anxiously waited to hear about erased events. Never before has the power of the dagger ever been used in her lifetime. The hush in the room was almost tangible, and before Tamina could take no more, Dastan began to speak.

She listened as he told her about their escape, their walk through the Valley of the Slaves. A smile formed on her lips as he told how he was forced to carry that big fat dignitary so they could sneak into Avrat. That amused her, but her smile quickly disappeared when he spoke of what happened within the city, at the secret temple, and at the finale battle under the streets of Alamut. It all seemed too horrible for her to not remember any of it.

Dastan, on the other hand, felt emotionally torn. Finally being able to speak of what happened lifted a weight off of him, yet his heart was still heavy. For when he told her of the events, he did not reveal all his memories to her. He didn't speak of the pain he felt when he watched his family being murdered before him one by one, or how their relationship had grown during those days nor did he tell her about the kiss they had shared.

Even though he wanted that love back so badly, he did not want a copy of it. Dastan wanted Tamina to fall in love with him during peaceful days, getting to know each other on a walk, not running for their lives. He wanted to have their first kiss with a romantic memory, not a kiss that ended up being their last.

Although Tamina had some knowledge of what happened from the images she had seen in the glass, she would never remember the events, and the emotions behind them. And for that, Dastan was grateful.

Tamina sat quietly as she processed the information, trying to form the right words to fit the situation. However, just as she was finally about to speak, the bedroom doors flew open and Bis rushed into the room. He paused briefly, knowing that he clearly interrupted something, but he knew that Dastan would kill him if he did not report the news that he carried immedily.

"Sire, we just received a dispatch from your brothers. They found the Hassansins lair and are taking a division there to get rid of them."

Dastan felt his heart start to race. "Did they say where? How long ago was the noticed written?" he demanded almost too harshly.

"The lair is about a two day trip west of here. For your brother, with one division, and when the dispatch was sent, your brothers should reach there by tomorrow."

Dastan drew a ragged breath and exhaled sharply as he uttered a curse. How could he have forgotten to tell his Father that under no circumstance should Tus and Garsiv lead the attack on the Hassansins? Bis looked at Tamina and they shared a worried look as the Prince rushed to gather his things.

"Tell the men that we leave at once!" Bis left the room quickly without another word, glad that he had already given that order. Tamina stood up from the bed unsure what to do, but did not have to wait long before Dastan gave her an order.

"Please send word to the remaining families that I would see them upon my," he quickly spoke as he threw on his armor and sheathed his duel swords behind his back.

And before Tamina could blink, Dastan leaped out of the window. She ran to the window's ledge and watched in amazement as he swung himself to the ground and joined his men. He mounted his horse and was probably already out of the city before the cloud of dust could settled in the morning light. An hour ago, Tamina would just have thought him to be a barbaric Persian who wanted any chance to slay his enemies. But now, after hearing what Dastan went through, Tamina said a silent prayer to the gods that he would once again be able to reach his brother before more tragedy filled into his life.

Bis and the other four men had a hard time keeping up with their Prince. The only time Dastan stopped was when there was some fresh water for the horses. Yet even then, the breaks were quick before he was back on his horse, pushing Naseen to his limits, in order to get to his brothers in time. He knew that the note was simply a notice and that they had no intention of waiting for him to reach them.

It was mid-morning the following day when Dastan saw signs of the Persian army far off in the distance. He kicked his heals into the ribs of the horse once again to make it go faster. The closer he got, he could see that they had not packed up camp yet, which meant that the Hassansins lair must be close.

Dastan road towards the front of the army and headed straight towards the tent with the royal family seal embroidered into the fabric. As he drew near, he could see the tents' sides were rolled up and he could see Tus and Garsiv, along with the generals discussing the plan of attack.

Thank the gods he made it in time.

He rode his horse through the camp, leaping over camp fires and any other obstacles in his way. The commotion he caused in his wake turned his brother's eyes in his direction and so lured them outside of the tent to get a better look at what was happening.

Dastan yanked on the rains hard, causing his horse to slide to a halt, kicking up a cloud of sand. He didn't even wait for his horse to come to a full stop before he leaped off the saddle and stumbled into his brother's presence.

"Dastan, what has gotten in to you?" Tus asked full of surprise and concern, which was not hard given the young Prince appearance. Dastan was covered head to toe with dust that was caked onto his sweaty skin. His hair was a mess, strands clumped together with sweat and sand. He was bent over, hands gripping knees, dragging air into his starved lungs, so much for having had that bath.

"Get him some water!" Garsiv ordered, as men also worked to get his horse under control.

Mouth beyond parched, Dastan tipped back the pouch of water and drank deep. Once his mouth had some moisture, he swished the water around before spitting it out, trying to get rid of the sand that occupied his mouth. "What are the two of you think you are doing?" he demanded once he was able to speak.

Both brothers were taken aback on such a tone of voice. Who was this Dastan before them?

"I can ask you that same question?" Tus responded with trepidation. "Did you ride all night?"

"You cannot lead the attack on the Hassansins," Dastan spoke bluntly, ignoring his brother's question. "They are too dangerous for members of the royal family to be attacking!"

"We have conquered armies with thousands of men," Garsiv stated with some fire, "a dozen men will be disposed of in a half hours' time." He was extremely insulted and bewildered all at the same time.

"These men are not to be taken lightly!" Dastan tried to explain in between heavy breaths yet stood tall now.

An awkward silence filled the group but Dastan was on high alert. He heard a group of horses come up behind them; Bis and the other men just arrived. He almost had forgotten that they had been with him.

"Give us a moment," Tus said to the other officials. They all nodded before leaving the vicinity of the tent, and putting a good distance of space from the family. Tus led Dastan to a chair and gently pushed him down into it, before the young prince could collapse.

"Father told us that we need to respect your silence on what happened in Alamut and to trust your judgment-"

"Then please Tus, tell me that both of you will sit this one out," he interrupted.

"We are not afraid of these men!" Garsiv shouted, making it clear that he took great offence to Dastan's comment. "I am leading the charge-"

"-I'm not going to let you!" Dastan stood up showing a clear challenge.

"Dastan, if it will put you at ease, you can lead the way and Garsiv will follow behind you," Tus reasoned, trying to defuse the rising argument. Tus had trained himself long ago to keep himself emotionally distant from the quarrels between his little brothers. A good king should be able to handle any dispute. Yet even as he remembered such things, as of late nothing seemed quite right.

Dastan and Garsiv instantly began to argue and complain about Tus' decision like he predicted they would. The Crown Prince fingered his gold beaded rosary, trying to keep his composure and not fall into this sibling rivalry. But very soon, Tus could not take anymore.

"Enough," he bellowed quickly silencing the two. "If you two keep this up, I'll send the both of you to the back of the army and neither one of you will join the fight."

Dastan closed his eyes and craned his neck around loosening his tight muscles as all of his frustrations and fears along with anger that fought to overtake him rose to the surface once more.

"Look," he tried again, a muscle jerked in his cheek, "I'm in no way saying that either of you are weak," he explained as calmly as he could muster. "What I'm trying to convey- to both of you, is that these men are…"

Screaming erupted throughout the compound along with shouts of 'they're here!' Tus and Garsiv bolted from the tent before Dastan could stop them.

"…Monsters," Dastan venomously hissed, finishing his sentence as he unsheathed his swords and ran out into the fray.


	6. History Repeats

**Chapter Six: History Repeats**

Every great warrior has their ideal battle ground: a city siege, flat open terrain, or a Calvary attack, as well as having places that they disliked the most. For Dastan, he hated battles that took place on flat terrain. He needed buildings to climb on, ledges to leap off, and wooden posts to swing on, anything that would give him the advantage over his enemies. And in a battle that he found himself currently in, one with only sand beneath his feet, he felt like a sparrow with broken wings, unable to fly way from danger.

The Hassansins attacked first. Their dark forms appeared out of a cloud of sand, taking the Persian army by surprise. Seven deadly men, covered head to toe with black, cut through the army like scythe in a wheat field. Poisonous black snakes sprung from the sand, quickly evening out the numbers of the army with their deadly bite. It was chaos, total chaos, as if they were all caught in the same patch of quicksand. Dastan's mind was racing as fast as his heart was pumping as he stood in front of the tent watching the horror that was unfolding before his eyes. Their army did not stand a chance. His eyes searched for his brothers, he did not want them out of his sight. However, as badly as it pained him, he needed to kill the Hassansin's leader to allow his men a fighting chance and that meant he could not focus on his brothers.

The Lion of Persia weaved in and out of the battle dogging men, snakes, and camp equipment as he tried to hunt down the snakes' master. All the while, he tried to push back the growing fear that if anything happened, he would not have the power of the dagger to change it back. Dastan knew that his mind was everywhere expect the current moment. An encounter of a black snake that lunged dangerously close to his neck was evidence that he needed to focus.

An unmanned horse a few yards from him caught his eyes, and Dastan's mouth curved into a smirk. There was his advantage. "Roham!"

Roham turned and saw Dastan gestured to the horse and immediately understood what his prince was thinking and quickly grabbed the reins, stopping the horse. He waited until Dastan was a few meters from him before kneeling down and leaned forward. Dastan leapt off the ground and when his boot made contact with Roham's back, the soldier quickly rose, giving Dastan the momentum to flip in the air and land on the horse's saddle. From there, his feet only made contact long enough for Dastan to jump off the saddle and back into the air towards an enemy.

The nameless Hassansin had no idea what attacked him from above. He was dead before he hit the ground.

Dastan swung himself onto the horse, eyes scanning the battle. A muscle moved in his jawline as blue eyes locked onto a pair of pale eyes. Dastan jabbed his heals into the horse and charged towards the Hassansin leader to slice that crooked grin off that deformed face. Suddenly four snakes shot up from the ground and sunk their poisonous fangs into the neck of the horse. The beast came to a sudden halt before its front legs lifted off the ground. Standing up quickly on the saddle, Dastan summersaulted off the dying horse.

Steal clashed together as the Lion of Persia landed in front of the leader with a harsh war cry. Having fought this man twice in the unknown past, it gave Dastan the upper hand. He tried to keep a cool head against the hot rush of anger, fighting against a foe that had a hand in Nizam's plot felt good to Dastan's sense of justice. With his duel swords, which he lacked in the other timeline, Dastan was able to disarm and kill the Hassansin leader fairly quickly. The leader's death would have been more satisfying to Dastan had he had the peace of mind that his comrades were doing so well without him.

Unknown to Dastan, the small Persian army was able to take out the grenade thrower Hassansin and the welder of the double-bladed halberd Hassansin now that they did not have to worry about the snake attacks any longer.

Quickly Dastan scanned the battle field as he tried to catch his breath. He saw that Garsiv was busy with the Hassansin with the giant scimitar, which he had some faith Garsiv could handle that one. However, the young prince did not have a chance to look for Tus because movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention which nearly stopped his heart.

"Garsiv!" Dastan shouted with warning as the porcupine Hassansin took aim.

Without any thought, Dastan ran right into the path of the ten steal spikes that were ripping through the air with deadly precision strait at Garsiv. Duel scimitars cut down the first four spikes, two shot past dangerously close to Dastan's head, while the remaining four imbedded themselves deep in the prince's right arm and shoulder. The impact sent Dastan reeling a few steps backwards. He heard his name being shouted by Bis as he fell to one knee. Dastan glanced up and saw his best friend run to his aid, but in doing so, Bis had drawn attention to himself.

A loud devastated cry broke through the chaos as Dastan watched with horror as a giant scimitar ran across the chest of his friend as he let out a blood curdling scream…

"BIS!"

Dastan got to his feet and raced over to his fallen friend. Dastan was usually so cool headed in battle, but in this fight, sheer panic was all that occupied his mind. Dastan only had his eyes on his best friend. He couldn't lose him again! He didn't see Tus use his diversion to slice through the porcupine Hassansin with his scimitar. But more importantly, Dastan, within that split second, never saw the steal-end whip shoot out towards him. In one heart beat Dastan was running towards Bis, and in the next, steal wrapped around his ankle. With one hard tug, his right leg was suddenly yanked backwards causing Dastan to violently slam face first into the dirt. A muffled sand filled scream escaped his lips as the impact drove the spikes deeper into his flesh. Dastan rolled onto his back just in time to see the second whip coming towards his head. He managed to doge the fatal attack and get back onto his feet before the Hassansin could strike again.

Dastan did not have time to notice the pain in his right ankle, or feel the blood flowing down his shoulder. He barely had time to register the fading strength he had with the grasp of his sword before a strike from the whip sent the weapons to the ground. The air around Dastan cracked from the duel whips and his movements became slower, making it harder to doge the attacks. One of the whips swept his legs out from underneath him knocking Dastan flat on his back. He brought his left sword up to his face to try and stop the other whip that was quickly descending down on him. However, right before the whip could deliver its deadly blow, it became limp and collapsed on the ground like a dead snake. Dastan forced his head to rise just in time to see Garsiv standing over the Hassansins body.

Dastan's head fell back to the ground as last remainder of strength quickly left him and before the darkness could overtake him; his mind was stuck with one last thought: his best friend was dead.


	7. A Broken Mess

**Chapter Seven: A Broken Mess**

It took multiple attempts before Dastan was able to open his eyes and keep them open. His hazy vision started to clear and he was able to make out the red and black design of a royal Persian tent. Slowly the mumblings and distorted sounds became clearer to hear. There was chatter and movement coming from outside, but he was alone. Dastan made the attempt to get up, but pain shot threw his right shoulder instantly and radiated down his arm keeping him from doing something as foolish as moving. Then the memories of the battle quickly began to flood his mind, but it was one image that was now in the forefront of his thoughts. It would surely be forever burned in his mind.

"Bis," the name softly escaped from Dastan's mouth as tears started to well up in his blue eyes. Apparently there are some things that just can't be undone. When would these weakening emotions leave him? Would he ever be the same? Why couldn't those he cherished live on in happiness. Dastan would die for such a joyous ending.

Bright light briefly blinded Dastan as the fabric of the tent was pushed aside allowing Tus and Garsiv to step in. "Dastan, you've finally awoken," Tus spoke with such relief.

"How long was I..."

"Almost two days," Garsiv replied with an unusual softness in his voice.

Dastan eyes widen as he noticed white bandages wrapped tightly around his brother's left bicep. "Garsiv, your injured!" he said with alarm as he tried to sit up again, forgetting about his own pain.

Garsiv placed a hand on Dastan's good shoulder to ease him back down. "It was just a graze," he reassured, but it did nothing to calm his younger brother.

Dastan emotions was getting the better of him, guilt was running ramped in his mind. Not only did he fail in keeping his brother from getting injured, his actions cost his best friend his life. _'So is that how it's going to be?' _Dastan thought to himself, _'I save one life and another one pays for it? Is it only a matter of time before I lose everything again, and become an orphan once more in every aspect of my life?'  
_  
"Brother, are you alright?" Tus asked with concern when he noticed tears streaming down the sides of Dastan's face, he couldn't remember the last time he saw his younger brother cry.

"I can't lose you again," Dastan unknowingly slipped. "I couldn't save Bis and I don't think I can take this anymore."

"Dastan," Tus spoke in surprised, "Bis did not die." However, the look that Tus received made the Crown Prince repeat himself. "Bis is not dead."

Those four words didn't penetrate his swirling thoughts. "But, I-I saw..."

"He is fine."

Dastan shook his head, his tired mind unable to process the information. "No, no, I saw him die. I saved Garsiv and in turn got Bis killed."

Garsiv stepped out of the tent for a moment, shouting something to a guard. He moved back in and shared a concerned look with Tus. Something was definitely wrong with their brother and it scared them, more than either one would admit. The healers said that Dastan was fine, minus some blood loss and fatigue; his wounds were not infected so there was no fever that could be causing this delusion.

Light once again filled the tent as Bis walked in with the aid of Roham. His chest was wrapped tightly with bandages and it was evident from the sweat on his brow, that the walk from his tent wore him out. However, that all washed away when Bis laid eyes on his best friend wrapped in anguish. It took more effort to keep up with the social stature and look at the two royal princes then it was to walk a few yards. "You sent for me, Sire?" Bis respectably asked.

Tus walked over to Bis and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Our brother believes that you were killed and is unable to listen to reason that you are anything but dead. Speak to him."

Bis simply nodded as Roham helped him over to the bed and eased down on a stool. Bis placed his hand on Dastan's good arm and gently squeezed it. Red stained eyes glanced up at Bis, but it took a while until they actually saw the man.

"Bis?" Dastan's voice was soft and unsteady.

"I'm here, Dastan," he replied softly as if he was speaking to a small scared child.

Eyes darted back and forth as his mind tried to figure out if this was real. "No, you died?" Dastan looked away, unable to look at the imposter. The gods were just playing around with him. There was no way Bis could have survived that blow.

"I was not even close," Bis forced a smile on his face, but it did not last.

Watching tears flow endless down Dastan's face, and seeing the confusion and shear guilt in his blue eyes, cut Bis deeper than the Hassansin's sword. A memory from the Alamut battle came to Bis' mind. He remembered how when he told Dastan that they had won, the confusion and shock that was etched on the Prince's face almost mirrored the look he had now. Bis reached for Dastan's hand, and placed it on his chest. He watched as the confusion faded from his features with feeling the rise and fall of breath, and the steady beat of his heart.

"You're here," Dastan finally whispered softly.

"Yes, Dastan," Bis' own voice betrayed him, "I'm here."

"How?"

"I was able to back away in time and just got cut a few millimeters deep. It does not even come close to the slash you had gotten on your back years ago," he reassured.

Dastan's eyes darted back and forth between his best friend, his brothers, and their wounds. Slowly he let his eyes sink closed with relief as he released his friends hand to rub his eyes, as if to dam the flow of tears.

Garsiv stood at the foot of the bed, frozen like a statue, unable to handle the scene that was happening before him. He couldn't even look Dastan in the face anymore. They were the great Princes of Persia! Strong, powerful men! So to see his brother fall victim to some dark shroud and broken like a shattered clay pot was something Garsiv could not handle.

"Roham, help Bis back to his tent, Dastan needs to rest some more." Tus ordered, knowing the two friends would stay at his brother's side if allowed. And Tus needed to speak to Dastan without an audience.

The two men complied without complaint. Tus leaned closer to Garsiv and spoke softly, "Go and fetch our brother something to eat." However, Garsiv made no signs of moving or that he even heard the command.

"Garsiv, go get food for Dastan," Tus said a bit more loudly accompanied by a gentle shove. That seemed to jolt Garsiv from his frozen state, and he exited the tent without a word.

"I'm not hungry," Dastan commented bring the attention back to him.

Tus moved to occupy the seat Bis was just in and gave his younger brother a knowing smile. "Dastan, it has been, to my knowledge, two days since you last ate. You must eat something before I can allow you to rest some more."

"I don't need any more rest, I'm fine," he said stubbornly yet he seemed so helpless in his post weeping state.

"For the love of Persia, Dastan, you are not fine! Your behavior the last few weeks is not normal. Something is truly bothering you and it is driving me mad that you feel like you cannot talk to me about it. We are brothers, are we not?"

Dastan could feel the tears start to well up once more at those last words, exact words that he had said to Tus in that erased past. "I...yes, we are brothers, but I...I can't..."

"Can't what, Dastan? Talk to me?" Dastan opened his mouth to speak, but Tus couldn't wait for him to form words. "You have been hiding something since the siege on Alamut, and I am not talking about how you came to know of Nizam's plans. Something happened to you, and you're losing the battle with the repercussions. Tell us what happened, so that we may aid you in this internal fight."

Blue eyes clamped shut, spilling unshed tears. He was tired, the ever-present pain was sapping him of his strength, and it was not just from the physical wounds. A soft curse came from Tus as Dastan heard him stand from the stool. Light filled his closed eyes as someone else entered the tent, but Dastan dared not open his eyes in fear of the disappointed look that might be on his brother's face.

"Eat, gain your strength back. We ride back to Nasaf in a few days." With that, Dastan was alone again.

He glanced over at the tray of food briefly before turning his head to the other side. He was truly not hungry; a nauseating knot was the only thing he felt in his stomach. He let his eyes close, and in the privacy of his tent, he let the tears flow freely until exhaustion took him back in the numbness of darkness.


	8. The Pain of Caring

**Chapter Eight: The Pain of Caring**

Tus stepped out of Dastan's tent completely shaken and feeling as if he couldn't breathe. He did not know what to think anymore. He had spent his whole life working towards becoming a king that would make his father proud, yet never before imagined he would face such heartache and hardships. Tus looked up and saw his other brother frozen in place only a few meters from Dastan's tent with a set expression etched on his face that Tus rarely had seen. It wasn't until that moment, when Tus saw his hot headed brother so lost, that the Crown Prince knew they were in real trouble.

Tus followed Garsiv's gaze back to the tent, they had been worried over their little brother for two days now. Two wretched days of doing something they hated doing; waiting. During that time however, they were anything but still, Tus and Garsiv worked to piece together what had transpired since Dastan stumbled into the tent out of breath and full of warning. A warning which fell upon deaf ears, because no one ever imagined that they would be the ones ambushed upon. What generals remained, worked through their ranks to seek the answers they needed. Every soldier who had witnessed Dastan's actions reported straight to the royal brothers, regardless of rank, and gave a direct account of what they had seen. And with each account, troubled Tus and Garsiv even more.

Tus let out a tired sigh as his fingers slowly went over the beads of his rosary, a habit he refused to break. He needed sleep himself. The last two days had really taken a toll on him, and no doubt the rest of their men, that is, what was left of them. He looked back to his brother standing there like stone and could only imagine he too was thinking about those reports.

The battle with the Hassansins had only lasted ten minutes. Within those ten minutes they had lost slightly more than a quarter of their men. Most of their deaths were by those damn snakes that could have only been controlled by some form of dark sorcery. Reports from survivors told of how Dastan seemed to know which Hassansin controlled those snakes and took him out with such ferocity never seen before. It was confusingly clear that Dastan's quick attacks meant that he had to have known the fighting styles of the Hassansins. He knew what to expect and hadn't been surprised by anything regardless of how strange a weapon or attack it was, though he never had fought with them before.

It shook Tus to the core hearing from soldier after soldier tell of how Dastan went straight for the kill, fighting for so many lives, acting without hesitation, and had such a wild and desperate look about him. Dastan had always been such a light hearted, carefree spirit, even in battle. And now seeing his blood brother so affected emotionally, he himself was afraid. Their younger brother should not have known these kinds of things. In the very least, Tus had made sure those wicked men were gone from the world. He had all of their possessions gathered up and locked in a chest, then had the bodies beheaded and then burned to become one with the sands. He would take no chances in easing his younger brother's nightmares.

Shaking the memories from his head, Tus approached Garsiv tentatively. "Hopefully Dastan's strength will return to him enough for the journey home." Tus spoke softly, however the middle prince had no intension of having a two sided conversation. "Perhaps," Tus continued, "back at Nasaf, Father will have better luck with Dastan. He was always more open to Father."

Garsiv's eyes moved away from the tent to the sand beneath his feet. Tus' statement clearly stirred an unwelcome emotion in the warrior.

"What is wrong?" Tus finally asked, but of course he did not get an answer back. It was then that Tus' tolerance of his brother's dark mood evaporated like rain in the Sahara. "Are you going to shut me out like Dastan? Refuse my help? I swear you too are so much alike it's a mystery why the both of you don't get along better." Tus turned to leave. He was too tired to deal with another stubborn, emotionally distant brother.

"He said again."

Tus stopped and turned around, "What?" He was surprised Garsiv had spoken at all.

"He said that he could not lose us again," Garsiv said still looking away.

"It must be the dreams that have been plaguing him these last few weeks," Tus tried to reason, remembering the night they came rushing into Dastan's quarters back in Nasaf.

Garsiv turned around to face his brother. "Dreams do not cause that much fear. He said that because he saved my life, that it cost the life of Bis, as if there was no other way around that. Look how long it took for Dastan to realize that Bis was actually alive, and he was standing right there! Are you telling me that amount of grief is from mere dreams?"

"I don't know Garsiv," Tus responded with a heavy sigh that held an amount of defeat. "Dastan refuses to speak to me. Father said that he believes that the gods must have given Dastan the knowledge about Nizam. Maybe they also made him a seer."

Both men had a hard time grasping such a concept, but nothing made sense anymore. Even going out to defeat an enemy hadn't been normal. They both did not want to admit it, but something far greater and more mysterious was at work and they did not know how to handle that.

"We didn't listen to him," Garsiv then admitted as if what Tus said was true. "He tried to warn us about what was about to happen. He somehow knew these Hassansins were different from any enemy we had ever faced before. Perhaps that is why he feels as if he cannot talk to us," he admitted to his own shame.

"Then perhaps, we too are to blame for his pain," Tus agreed, squeezing his burning eyes shut. "When he looks at us his eyes shine with fear and misery."

Garsiv now closed his eyes as well, "because we refused to believe him."

They were at their breaking point, but neither man would allow a tear to form. They loved their brother fiercely and it was bad enough to see him falling apart, but to think that they too were also the cause of that torture was too much to bear. Finally after a time, Tus slowed his breathing and regained his composure. Opening his eyes, he stood silent as his tired mind tried to process theories that he had little knowledge about. Then it came to him like a cool breeze. "Tell the men that we leave at first light to Alamut."

"Alamut! For what reason, Brother?" Garsiv called out with confusion as Tus made his way to his personal tent.

"It is a Holy City is it not, and if our brother had indeed become a seer, than what better place to help him?"

As shifting and perilous the sands of the desert can be, men from different nations will always seek to cross them. Caravans of tradesmen seeking new markets, merchants en route to acquire rare goods, soldiers heading out to new posts, or refugees seeking a new life... all and more can be found risking the heat and storms to cross those baron lands which can have only been smite by god himself.

Yet on a day like today, if a traveling merchant came across this particular caravan, he would know just by looking at them that the Persian army had suffered greatly from their latest battle. Less than 50 soldiers slowly trekked across the hot desert sands, the wounded road on horseback while the uninjured carried the supplies. The Crown Prince and his brother lead the broken army, ranks marbled down the caravan until the lowest soldier brought up the rear. And for that many men to be traveling for hours, very few found a reason to speak.

Near the back of the group, where the men were fanned out among the sand, one horse bore two riders. A large solider slowly guided the horse through the endless sea of sand, careful not to jar the other man seated behind him. However, as the hours passed the sun pressing down on them, the horse made a quick movement, and by the sharp intake of breath followed by a muffle curse behind him, the solider felt guilty to have cause the man more pain. He felt a weight pressing against his shoulder blades and unconsciously the solider steered the horse farther away from the others giving the man at his back more privacy.

Dastan's head fell onto the larger soldier's back, too tired to keep it held high. It was the last bit of pride he had left, after Tus and Garsiv had all but thrown him on the back of the horse with an unknown soldier. However, after hours in the hot sun, Dastan did not care anymore. The men around him were strangers to him and the young prince was glad of that. He could not take the concern glances from his men or from his brothers anymore. A new emotion started to overtake all other feelings within Dastan as they road on. He was becoming numb about everything. It was almost like he finally hit rock bottom. All the fear, despair and sadness of falling now gone as he just lay broken in his own dark pit, staring up at an unattainable blue sky of freedom. Oddly, he was at peace with knowing this was how life was going to be from now on, or in the very least accepting of it. He could live with the numbness as it would be so much easier to pretend like everything was okay without feeling suffocated by the despair.

However, as they reached Alamut, doubt started to fill the back of his mind again. And as they road past the gates, Dastan grasped onto the ledge of numbness, praying to whatever god that could hear him that the ground beneath him would not give way again.


	9. Hidden Threat

**Chapter Nine: Hidden Threat**

The news that a small Persians army had entered the city gates reached Tamina almost instantly. Just the word 'army' set her people on edge. However, her guards told her how this army did not look like much of a threat. In fact, they looked like they desperately needed help since it appeared there were only a few men that had no clear signs of injury.

Tamina shifted on her throne waiting anxiously for the leaders to come before her presence. Her mind was plagued with 'whys' as to their unannounced visit. It was also not confirmed if Prince Dastan was even among them, since there was no sight of him riding alongside his brothers. Only the Crown Prince and his brother, Garsiv, road out in front of their small band of heathens, as they made their way towards the palace.

She tried hard to keep her mind from wondering off to scenarios that Dastan had been killed. He had left with such urgency, with such panic in his eyes that Tamina found her heart quickening and filling with dread. Yet on the outside, and even within the lies she told herself, there was no place for her to worry. After all it wasn't like she really had feelings for that Persian…right?

The clean pure color of the throne room was darkened by the sand tarnished presence of the high ranking officials of the Persian army as they entered. Tamina's eyes fell upon each man as they cross the threshold, looking for the one man that knew of the dagger's secret. Her heart started to pound within her chest and fear crept into her as with each new face that entered was not the one she sought. Was the Crown Prince there to personally convey his condolences over their shared loss?

Then suddenly Dastan entered the room at last and relief washed over her. He had returned to her alive. Yet that sweet moment of relief was painfully short lived as the thundering of her heart took off again. How could she not notice how a broad shouldered guard supported most of the Prince's weight as he limped off to the side of the group? His eyes were downcast, not looking anyone in the face. He did not even look up at her once.

Who was this man?

Tamina tore her gaze away from Dastan and looked at the Crown Prince standing before her. "Alamut welcomes the Princes' of Persia," she said the moment the room grew still.

"Thank you, your Highness," Prince Tus bowed with the rest following suit.

"Prince Tus," Tamina addressed, "I see that Prince Dastan was successful in finding you. If I may ask, what has happened to you and your men?" she tactfully inquired.

"We are returning from the battle that waged between us and the Hassansins."

Princess Tamina sat listening to the Crown Prince speak, but her eyes were studying the quiet Prince in between glances. She determined then that something really was very wrong with him. She thought back to the few times she had spoken with this enigma named Dastan. Each encounter she had with him was different.

When she first met Dastan, there was an overwhelming sense of joy within his blue eyes that was so strong, it was clear he was trying to contain it. There was a mischievous mystery about him as well that intrigued Tamina. For two complete strangers, as they were, Dastan had seemed so excited to be engaged to her. All that day amongst the banqueting, he only had eyes for her. He never looked to another woman with any interest. Faithfulness to a spouse was rare in this world. Women were so often objects to be obtained. Yet not once did she feel that way with this foreign prince at her banquet table. His bright smile never left him and it struck Tamina as they returned to their land that this Dastan may truly be a man in love.

Then when he arrived two weeks ago with his men, that joy was gone from his eyes. Dastan was tired, which any man who traveled would be, but when they spoke there was an edge in his voice. She was not sure if it was just because of his long journey, or maybe this was more of the real Dastan? It was hard to believe this was the same man who had been looking forward to their union.

Tamina had so many questions to ask her would be husband, but it wasn't until a week later until she saw him again. He was cleaner and smelled better, but there ended the improvements. Dastan had permanent bags under his sad eyes and a weariness that the baths clearly hadn't washed away. He had answered her truthfully about his knowledge of the dagger and had given a brief account of the evils his uncle and the Hassansins had unleashed, but there was so much more in him that wasn't being told. He was bottling emotions within him that he clearly wouldn't allow to surface. She wanted to say so much but once he had gotten word of his brothers' actions, the fear and anger that flashed before her left her silently stunned.

Now days later, it was clear to Tamina that the man standing quietly off to the side in her presence was not the same man that she first had met a month ago. He was broken.

"You're Highness." Tus' spoke bringing her attention back to the others.

She looked at the other faces and realized they were waiting for an answer. "That is quite the account. I know my own people will rest better knowing that you were able to defeat such a wicked enemy as the Hassansins. My servants will give all that you require and I will have my physicians tend to your wounded," she answered tactfully.

"Thank you." Tus bowed respectfully as he turned to leave.

"Prince Dastan, I would like to speak to you." Tamina spoke out, stopping the young Prince from leaving.

Tus and Garsiv shared a look before they left the throne room along with everyone else. Dastan did not move from where the soldier had left him, only turned so that he was facing Tamina, but his eyes did not seek her face.

Tamina stood and walked towards him, taking a closer look at him. Sand and sweat covered his body from the journey and she could see the edge of a bandage peeking out from the exposed part of his chest. She looked into his eyes and they were empty, it was almost like there was a glaze over them. This was a defeated man devoid of all life.

There was a part of her that wanted to ask if everything was alright with him, to ask what had happen to him. But she could tell that he would not open up. It was clear that he was exhausted; maybe she would speak to him on that matter after he had rested. However, there was still something that she had to ask now.

"Dastan," she nearly whispered. "Is there anything else that I need to know? Is there any more threats I need to be aware of?"

He let out a deep sigh and finally looked up at her. "I don't know," he replied with no emotion in his voice. Dastan did not wait to see if there was anything more that Tamina had to say, he just turned slowly limped away.

Tus and Garsiv slowly walked down the open hallway as the others went on ahead of them. The afternoon sun shone brightly through the archways of the railing, while the pillars casted shadows on the marbled floor. It wasn't long until the two brothers were the only ones in the hallway.

"Well we are here," Garsiv finally spoke. "Now what do we do?"

They turned the corner but did not go any further as Tus turned to look at him squarely. "Well first off we need to let the injured rest and recover."

Anger flared. "You know what I speak of!" Garsiv bit out.

"I know, I know," Tus raised his hands up to calm his hot headed brother. "I want our brother to rest as well," Tus explained. "It will give me time to speak with Princess Tamina privately and work to find a solution. I will send a message to Father informing him of all events."

Garsiv thought about that. "I suppose that sounds best, but Brother, we _have_ to find him a cure for this, this darkness within him."

"I know," Tus repeated. "I will work on that. For now, didn't you get some information from that spy a while back? You were meaning to tell me about it until we discovered the whereabouts of the Hassansins' lair. What was it?"

That comment sparked new life into Garsiv. "YES! Of course, the spy! We wrung it out of him that he was not working alone. There was a second spy working with him."

Tus could recognize that fire in his eyes a mile away. '_Perfect_,' Tus thought. '_A perfect distraction for him._' Tus smiled slightly. "Well now, I imagine then you and a few of your men could make good use of our unplanned visit here and see if you can flush out this unwanted snake."

"Now that would be my utmost pleasure!" Garsiv was never one to sit still for long and all his family and friends knew it.

"You'll probably have some difficulty finding him here after so much time. Not to mention the fact we didn't have the warmest welcome the first time we were here."

"Indeed not, but that won't stop me from finding our missing spy."

Tus and Garsiv were then startled by Dastan who came out of the shadows with his guard supporter. An awkward presence could be felt between them.

"Try Adullam," Dastan spoke unaffected. "It is where most the filth collects here in Alamut. If not, there is as small area like the slums of my birth just south of that area you could try."

The shock and worry could be clearly read in his two older brothers.

"Dastan," Garsiv nearly pleaded. "Have you become a seer?" he asked straight to his face.

A dead sort of smirk briefly crossed their little brother's face only to be instantly replaced again by nothingness. His dead eyes never changed.

"What do you think I have been doing since I left you?" Dastan didn't wait for an answer. "Have Tamina send you Asoka. He will be able to help you."

And just like what he did to Tamina, Dastan walked away without caring if they had anything more to say. There was only two things on his mind, get cleaned up and sleep, he was finished with all the formalities he had to stand through to get there.

Tus and Garsiv seemed to have held their breaths until he disappeared down another corridor and only then began to breath. They hadn't been prepared for that encounter.

"I would have thought his talk with Princess Tamina would have lasted longer," Tus said to his chagrin.

"How could he know such things?" Garsiv wanted to shout. Never in his whole life had he been this frustrated. "What was he doing here?"

"I don't know," Tus regretted to say once more. He sorely needed answers right now. "Look, tomorrow we shall find this Asoka. I think it would be best to work with him, sending spies of our own ahead of you to infiltrate the areas Dastan mentioned. Then you could personally ride around and draw all attention towards yourself-"

"-Which would take all attention off of my spies!" Garsiv was quick to catch on. "No one will be paying attention to some new strangers in the taverns when a Persian Princes is striding on by."

Tus smiled. "Exactly."

The two men then continued their walk to the baths with some semblance of a plan in place. Garsiv was eager for his man hunt while Tus made plans to pray in the local temples.

Dastan arrived at the baths purely to the thanks of his nameless soldier. He never once bothered to talk with him. The healers were already there within the large tiled room, taking care of the wounded. However once he entered, everyone stopped and turned to take care of him. Normally, Dastan would order them to finish tending to his men before attending to him as there were others, like Bis, who needed the attention more. But not this time, not today.

Today he welcomed his royal position unashamedly.

Tamina's voice echoed in his mind with fresh new words to haunt him. Apparently there were more threats to uncover. Another false spy to hunt down he hadn't known about. Dastan's body was moving on its own, going through the motions with no thoughts forming at all. His mind was done.

It would be days before Dastan would awaken to the memory of a threat only he would know about, but had forgotten about entirely.


	10. Yearning for Answers

Early the next day, Garsiv met with Asoka and soon the plan to flush out the spy was set in motion. Garsiv gathered a few of his uninjured men and set them out into the slums of Alamut. Holy city or not, they still had small pockets of the city where the local rift raft resided. They would wait until midday before ridding out into the city to create the distraction. The years of battle strategy and the countless victories under Garsiv's leadership gave them insight into every possible scenario of this secret attack, which was planned out. Garsiv left no room for error. After a devastating battle with the Hassansins, victory or not, and the several days of helplessness that followed, Garsiv was out for blood. He might not have the slightest clue on how to help his adoptive brother with his dark mood, but he had every intention of ridding the world of anyone that was in league with his treacherous Uncle.

Tus was led to one of the highest temples located in the city. Unlike Garsiv, Tus took prayer very serious, a good habit that he had learned from his father. He was well aware that this trip to the temple frustrated his brother, as Garsiv did not bother to keep his thoughts to himself, but Tus knew that before he took any further actions, he needed to spend time in prayer and thought. This issue with Dastan was something the crowned prince had never faced before, and he needed all the wisdom and guidance he could gather. As his father, the King, told him, he needed to listen to his own heart. And that was something he could only do during prayer. He would speak with the Princess and his younger brother only when he felt he had his thoughts in order.

It was on the second full day since they arrived in Alamut, that Dastan finally awoke. He slowly moved to the edge of the bed, looking out the opened window at the blue sky. He wondered if Garsiv had located the second spy that he had overheard them talking about. Dastan gingerly stood up, testing his weight on his right ankle. A small smile tugged on his lips as he felt no discomfort. He still might not be able to scale any buildings, but at least he could get around without any help. Dastan walked over to a small table by a closed window that held a platter of different assortments of fruit. Grabbing an apple, he opened the detailed carved shutters allowing the morning light fill the chambers.

Dastan leaned against the side of the window, the sun warming his back, and took a bite of the apple. Some of the juices trickled down his chin that he used the back of his hand to wipe it away. His eyes locked on to the leather sack that held the individual bags of gold coins. There were still many families that he needed to seek forgiveness from. Dastan set the half eaten apple on the window's ledge and walked across the room where the sack was located. He knew that it would not be long before Tus would want to head back home and no doubt make him come with them.

Without a second thought, Dastan got dressed, grabbed the sack long with the scroll with the names and headed out into the streets of Alamut. His memory took him to one of the homes that he had visited already, hoping that the widower would know where to find the next person on the list. Dastan was pretty sure that a city like Alamut, families of the army supported each other. He was sure he would find them.

* * *

Garsiv reclined on one of the many plush couches in the main hall, watching without much interest as the servants served the evening meal. The hunt for the second spy was too easy, as the traitor had already been captured. Garsiv was hoping that the hunt would have had lasted longer, for now he was once again left with nothing to do. His older brother was in a temple somewhere praying, while the other one slept, and here he was doing nothing but drinking. There was nothing more Garsiv despised than to be left idle when there was a problem to be solved. At the very least, the wine was good.

He lifted his goblet in the air and a young servant boy came and quickly filled it with more wine. A frustrating sigh escaped Garsiv as he understood, yet still did not like, Tus' need to think; I mean really think over, important and delicate matters, especially since this whole disaster had been brought upon them by their own Uncle. He was a man of action and he knew that he would never want the crown of the Empire.

Garsiv looked at the dark liquid and saw a small smirk in the reflection. Yes, he was the bronze, Tus the mind, and Dastan the heart. He felt his smile stiffening. His little brother had lost his heart and it all came down to Nizam. Garsiv needed someone to blame, and in his mind this whole madness started with his traitorous Uncle yet the man's punishment had come too swiftly. His hand grasped the goblet tighter. Oh how he wished there were still men who were in league with Nizam, that way he could take his frustrations out on them.

* * *

Tus walked down the elegantly handcrafted hallway towards the guest room that Dastan was occupying. After spending the last day and a half in prayer and in thought, Tus felt the aggravation of Dastan's distance from him fade away. Something had really shaken his little brother to the point of isolation, and Tus realized that he needed to stop his frustration from growing on this matter. He would go talk with Dastan, and hopefully the young prince would finally open up to him. Tus did not want to more people to know about Dastan's plight, for respect of his brother's privacy, however the time of secrecy was now over. This was Dastan's last chance before Tus would go to Tamina and to whomever else who could help bring his brother back from this darkness.

The crowned prince knocked on the door and waited a moment to see if Dastan would open the door, yet it did not happen. Tus opened the door expecting to see him still sleeping only to find the room without an occupant. He walked deeper into the room and noticed an apple sitting on the window's ledge. It had one huge bite taken out of it and the exposed inside was dark brown and tiny gnats flew all around it. Tus felt his frustration start to grow in him once again, but tried to remain calm about the fact that his brother, who had been dead to the world the last two days, was now gone from his room.

Tus quickly exited the room and headed straight for the main banquet hall. Maybe Dastan awoke and was finally hungry. On his way he spotted one of the servants that had been assigned to Dastan.

"Have you seen Prince Dastan?" Tus asked.

"Your majesty, I have not seen Prince Dastan since I had brought a platter of fruit to his chambers this morning."

Tus thought for a moment before giving orders to the servant "I want you to gather a few other men and search the rooftops for him."

Tus left without thought of possibly explaining that order a bit more clearly. The servant stood there for a moment confused. Prince Dastan seemed to be missing, yet Prince Tus wants him to search the roofs? The servants of Alamut were not as familiar with Dastan's habits as Nasaf's servants were.

The banquet hall was filling up with more people as night went on. Tus stood under one of the grand archways scanning the massive room for any signs of Dastan. This was the last place that his brother would be. The baths were completely empty, and the servant had reported that Dastan was not on the roofs. The young servant asked if he should check other places within the palace, but Tus waved him off. This was Dastan. He wouldn't be found in stables calmly brushing a horse's mane, or in the gardens sniffing the flowers, or in the libraries reading scrolls. It was official.

"Dastan is gone." Tus told Garsiv.

"What?" Garsiv exclaimed as he sat up from the couch and slammed his goblet on the table. He quickly stood up and expertly hid the fact that he felt the room spin from the countless number of wine glasses he had had.

Garsiv followed Tus out of the banquet hall in searched of not Dastan but Alamut's Princess. However the two brothers did not go far until they ran into Bis.

"Have you seen Dastan at all?" Tus asked his brother's best friend.

"I have not seen him since he left the baths the day we arrived here," Bis answered. Bis sadly was all too familiar with the looks he was now getting.

Garsiv did not try to hide his inebriated frustrations. "Where in the jackals ass is Dastan!"

Bis thought for a moment, "He might be out in the streets of Alamut—"

"In bimani ast!"

"Garsiv!" Tus sternly said, silencing his hot-headed brother so that Bis may continue.

"Dastan has been visiting every family that had lost someone in the siege, asking for forgiveness and offering gold for compensation. He is trying to repair the damage that Nizam had caused to this city."

Tus ran a hand over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose as he let out a deep sigh. _Why do you feel like you must fix everything by yourself, Dastan? _"It is time we speak to Princess Tamina."

* * *

The sun was starting to set behind the Holy city as Dastan slowly maneuvered through the lower streets of Alamut, searching for the next house. He paused at a crossroad as he recalled the directions that the last widower gave him. Turning left, he counted the homes until he reached the seventh door and knocked. It was a few moments until the wooden door creaked open reviling an old woman, who was no younger than seventy.

"I am Prince Dastan, son to King Sharaman of the Persian Empire, and I am here to offer my deepest regards to the loss you faced during our siege against your city."

The old woman studied his weary features, her lined face softened and a smile warmed her face. "Please, come in." She stepped aside and motioned in.

Dastan quietly walked inside and took notice of the simple layout of the one floor room. Despite its aged look, everything was clean and created a warmth ambiance. Dastan turned around and was taken aback at the compassion that filled the brown eyes that studied him.

"I have gold to offer you for compensation for your loss." He said as he went to untie the sack around his belt. "I know it does not make up for-"

"How long since you've eaten?" She asked.

Dastan blinked back the confusion from her unexpected question. He was taken off guard that he answered truthfully. "I don't remember."

"I'll make you something to eat," she said as she moved to the small corner that was her kitchen.

"It is a kind offer that I regret to refuse."

The old woman stopped and faced him. "You regret a great deal, don't you?" Her dark eyes pierced him. "Have a seat." She gestured to a wooden chair that matched a table that showed years of use, before she continued to make some food.

"You do not need to go through the trouble of making me food, I am not hungry and I have-"

A soft chuckle filled the room, "Well I am, and a noble young man, like yourself would not deny the chance to offer some company to a lonely old woman, now would you."

Dastan tried to come up with a response, but he could think of none. And there was something about this aged woman that he could not help but do what she said. With a sigh, he ran his hand through his hair and sank down at the table. There was silence that made Dastan feel almost uncomfortable, causing him to pick at the ends of the small cloth pouch that held the gold. However, soft humming came from the kitchen that chased away the awkward silence. The melody was a bit rough, as it came from an aged body, yet it was filled with such peace that Dastan could not help but get lost in it.

* * *

Tamina looked at the three men before her, taking in what Prince Tus had just reported to her. Her stomach twisted with the confirmation that something was terribly wrong with Dastan. The accounts from his two brothers and best friend strengthened her own observation of the Prince a few days ago. Since she had looked upon the broken man, Tamina had been trying to figure out what about that nonexistent past had been the trigger for this real turmoil and how to fix it.

She knew that the three Persian men were waiting for her to respond, to somehow give them the magic remedy to bring back the Dastan they all knew. But she knew that it was not that easy. Dastan is living between two timelines, lost in a sandstorm of time and it seems that he has buried his head in the sand like an ostrich. Until he lifts his head, all their calling would not get him to move. Tamina wished she knew more about the man she is to marry, in hopes that she could better understand him and help him. Yet these three men all shared a bond with Dastan that she hoped one day she would have as well.

It became apparent that there was only one thing that would save Dastan from this storm, and in order for that to happen, these three men of Persia would have to understand this type of storm.

"If you honestly desire to know what has caused this darkness upon Dastan, I will tell you. However," she added to stop the voices of each man as they were about to answer. "If word gets out, if anyone learns about this, I will kill you myself. This should not be taken lightly. What I will reveal to you all is something you will have to keep a secret for the rest of your lives. Your loved ones can never know. Not even your father. This knowledge would be something you would have to forever live with. I don't expect an answer now. Truly think about these consequences and conditions. If you are still willing come morning, meet me in the high temple at first light tomorrow. There I will tell you what you need to know and how to help Prince Dastan."

* * *

Dastan's wondering mind was brought back to the room when the old woman placed a wooden bowl of heavy gruel in front of him. The aroma of the warm meal made his stomach growl. Dastan saw the smile as she pushed a basket towards him and uncovered the bread it held.

"Eat."

Dastan slowly grabbed a piece of bread, broke it and dipped a portion into the gruel. After one taste, he gave into his hunger. She filled a clay cup with wine and put it before him. When his bowl was empty, she filled it again, then sat down and watched him eat. She slowly ate the small portion that she had ladled out for herself. When she was finished, she noticed his empty bowl.

Her brow slightly rose as she smiled. "More? I have plenty."

Dastan shook his head. "Thank you, but I am fine." He said simply.

"Young man, you cannot fool an old woman. Although it looks like you got some of your color back from eating."

A small smile formed on his lips. "It was quite good. It has been many years since I had such a-"

"Simple meal?"

"I mean no offense. It brought me back to my childhood."

"Before you became a Prince of Persia?" The old woman laughed at his shocked expression. "When you are as old as I, you know a great deal."

Dastan put both hands around the clay cup on the table before him and stared at the dark wine.

"Tell me young prince, why are you seeking forgiveness from us?"

"My actions caused-"

"If the rumors around the city are true, it was your Uncle that convinced the Crown Prince to attack us. That it was you that found a way to breach our walls and end the battle quickly sparing thousands of lives. And that it was also you that stopped your brothers from taking control of our city and unveiled your Uncle's evil plot. Now why must one man carry this sin alone, when clearly he is not the one to be blamed for every single death? Unless you are holding onto this guilt so you do not have to feel something else. So tell me, what is really bothering you."

"How do you live with knowledge that you cannot share?"

"It's simple, you cannot." The woman said bluntly. "They fester like an infected wound that slowly spreads across your body. To heal you need a physician, correct? And to live with such a heavy secret you need at least one person to help carry it, maybe more."

"It is not that simple."

"I never said it was."

Dastan brought the cup to his lips and drank some wine before returning to his original position.

"Tell me, when was the last time you were all on your own? When there was not a single soul that you could go to for support."

"I don't know. Bis and I were close friends as long as I could remember."

"Then you were adoptive into a family with a loving father and two older brothers."

"I guess I have always had someone. I mean until-" Dastan caught himself before he could speak of the timeline. He looked at the old woman and noticed something in her brown eyes. It was like she knew what he was about to say. But that could not be possible.

"Then why are you trying to unravel yourself from a tight cord of love ones that have wrapped around you? Why are you letting thoughts orphan you?"

Dastan just stared uncomprehendingly at the old woman. How could such an old Alamutain, whom he had never met before, know so much about him? Was he so translucent that she could see straight through him?

"It is well known across the land, that the bond of family is something that the Persian Empire holds high. Your brothers trust you so deeply that your claims against your Uncle, claims against your own family, were not cast aside. Your older brother loved you more, for he took the life of a man that shared the same blood. Yet you distant yourself from him, distant yourself from those who love you, why?"

"Because I know how they would react. And it is better this way." Dastan stood up from the chair, leaving the small pouch of gold on the table. "Thank you for the meal." He turned and started to walk towards the door. He was about to open the wooden door but the woman's voice stopped him.

"No matter how much you might think you know the outcome, every situation is different. One tiny moment can change a person's view. It might look like events are the same, but they never are."

Dastan turned around and found that the old woman was standing right by him with a smile. She grabbed his hand and placed the small leather pouch in it. "The home you are looking for is on the right."

Without another word, the old woman walked back to the table to clean up the bowls. Dastan stared at the woman before slowly turning around and leaving the house. As he stood in the street, he looked back at the door wondering what just happened. Dastan glanced down the dust covered street to the row of homes that apparently had the correct home. His eyes moved up towards the star-studded sky, it was too late to visit anymore families, and with the conversation he just had, he was done speaking to anyone.

As Dastan made his way back to the palace, his thoughts were on what the old woman had spoken to him. Maybe she was right. Maybe he should give his brothers more credit. '_One tiny moment can change a person's view.' _ Perhaps he should be more open to his brother's help rather than pushing them away. Why was he trying to go it alone? His fear of being alone had somehow caused him to feel like he had to be alone in order to not lose anyone.

A soft curse came from his lips from that last train of thought. It was so confusing that it sounded so ridicules to even himself. It made no sense, yet he was letting it happen. He collapsed on his bed, his mind too tired from trying to digest the old woman's words to come up with any answers to the many questions that plagued his mind.

TBC….


	11. The Shattered Vase

Tus stood at the edge of the High Temple's tower looking at the city bellow but his gaze did not stop there. He looked past the city walls to the lush green farmlands to the barren desert beyond. The sun's orange light clashed with the fading evening's dark blue skies. He did not get a well-rested night's sleep as his mind had been left to wonder about what great secrets this Princess would reveal to him, but more importantly, how it would help his dear precious brother.

The sound of approaching footsteps caused Tus to tear his gaze away from the awaking morning. There was Garsiv standing at the bottom of the few stairs that lead to the tower's edge. Tus couldn't help but smirk upon seeing his brother. He knew that his warrior brother felt more comfortable in his battle gear, than the simple tunic and robe that he now had on, however they were guest in a royal city; there was no need for body armor. It was also plain to see that he too got very little sleep.

"You know, we will not be able to tell Father a word of this." Garsiv softly reminded his brother, letting Tus know that he was well aware that that was one of the conditions Tamina had said which would surly bother the crowned prince.

"I know," Tus answered as he walked down the steps to join Garsiv. "However, I believe that Father would be most accepting of this, that is, if it proves to help Dastan overcome this dark hold."

"Do you think whatever we learn this morning… is the reason Nizam wanted to conquer Alamut?"

Tus let out a sigh. "I am not sure, but I think it all ties together."

Another set of footsteps echoed across the walls.

"Then let us not wait any longer to find out." Bis said as he joined the two Persian princes.

It shouldn't have surprised Tus to see his brother's best friend standing there, willing to carry what seemed to be such a heavy burden for the sake of Dastan. Then again, they were like brothers long before the King brought Dastan into their family.

Garsiv had forgotten that Bis was with them when Tamina gave them the ultimatum. For all the years that Bis was by his brother's side, Garsiv only had seen him as Dastan's man servant. For the first time in his life, Garsiv now looked at Bis for what he truly was.

Bis saw his hesitation and wondered if he was about to be told to stay out of it. However, that was not how Garsiv now saw things. They had all grown wiser in the past month.

Garsiv surprisingly smirked at Bis. "I suppose we are all adoptive brothers to Dastan, are we not? Now, I'm through with this waiting. Let us get on with it!"

Both Tus and Bis had to admit that those words were remarkable coming from Garsiv, yet both were wise enough not to comment.

The three men then turned to face the two black crafted doors with gold trim work. Bis and Garsiv reached and opened the doors towards them. They entered a small room that had another set of matching doors, however their path was blocked by Asoka.

The head guard studied the three Persians with a critical gaze, until his eyes rested on Garsiv. "Hand over your sword, please."

Garsiv's hand swiftly went to the hilt of his sword, but it was not to comply with Asoka's request.

"If you do not relinquish your weapon, you will not enter," Asoka threatened.

Tus faced his brother and saw the inflexibility in his eyes. "Garsiv, hand over your sword."

"I will do no such thing." Garsiv replied never taking his eyes off the head guard.

"It is a holy temple; you will not need your sword." Tus reasoned impatiently. "This is not about honor or your pride, it is about Dastan. Now if you do not surrender your sword, then it will bear testimony to us all here and now that you do not care for Dastan as we do."

Garsiv swore under his breath as he untied his sword from his belt and reluctantly placed it in Asoka's hands, yet still did not let go.

"Garsiv!" Tus sternly whispered.

The prince swore once again as he finally let go of his weapon.

Without any words, Asoka turned and pushed open the doors revealing the highest holy temple. The moment the three men walked in, the doors shut behind them and they were greeted with six armed guards with crossbow pointed straight at them.

Garsiv's head jerked to face his brother as the muscles in his jaw tightened.

"You do not need to say it." Tus quietly admitted, knowing full well what he was going to say. They were in a locked room with crossbows aimed at them and he just forced Garsiv to give up the only weapon they had. This was far from what they had been expecting.

However, the temple's beauty quickly stole Tus' attention. He had never seen a more beautiful holy place. The soft wisps of scented smoke created a light haze as the morning sun slowly made its way into the high temple windows. The gold and brass hand crafted design was so detailed that it surely was a great tribute to the gods that the Alamutians worshiped.

While Tus was admiring the design of the room, Garsiv was assessing the danger. Six guards, three on either side of them, which meant two crossbows aimed at each of their unarmored chests. Garsiv's eyes darted around surveying the layout for coverage and potential weapons. He surmised that the two guards farthest from them would aim for Tus, since he was in middle. He could probably grab his brother and toss him to the side, behind one of the pillars. He and Bis most likely would take an arrow, though if they move fast enough it wouldn't be life ending, but at least the crowned prince would be unharmed.

As Garsiv's mind focused solely on different scenarios of attack, Bis took it all in. He noticed the danger and could only hope no arrows would be flying at all! He had just started feeling back to his old self from his last injury, he really didn't want another. Bis then noticed the beauty around him and couldn't help but wonder how long it took to create such a holy temple this high above the city. Soon his eyes landed on Tamina. She was standing in front of a small brass table with a simple clay vase that held beautiful delicate looking white flower. In her hand, she held what looked to be a ceremonial dagger. From everything Bis was seeing, his only thought that remained in the forefront of his mind was how all of this was supposed to help Dastan?

After a moment all three sets of eyes focused on Tamina alone. Only then did she speak.

"Did you all sleep well last night," Tamina asked with a slight tilt of her head.

Tus shifted his eyes to either man briefly. "No," he answered honestly.

The tension in the room was thicker than a camel's hoof. Exchanging pleasantries was nearly unbearable.

"Good," she answered back without being smug about it. She wanted to make sure these Persian's were taking her words to heart.

"There are two things you must know," Tamina finally spoke. "The first, remain absolutely quiet until I say so, and secondly if at any time you try to take this dagger from me or from this room my men have orders to kill you all without hesitation. Am I clear?"

All three men nodded their heads even though they were all utterly confused. In their quest to help Dastan none of her words made a lick of sense. Yet they all shared the same thought, why would they want to steal a ceremonious dagger?

"Now, when I hand you this dagger, I want you to press the jewel on the end of the hilt," she said with no further explanation. She knew deep down that men like these would not believe a word she would say until they could see with their own eyes. They would have no faith outside of that.

The Persian men gave each other looks of uncertainty. Maybe coming to the Princess was a mistake and a waste of time.

Suddenly their attention was brought back to Tamina as she swiped the beautiful vase off the small table. The sudden sound of the clay vase shattering made their heart rates increase. Water flowed freely as it carried fallen petals away from the flower's broken stem. Tamina walked over to Tus and handed him the dagger. He looked down at the detailed craftsmanship; he had never seen it's equal. He looked back up at Tamina before gently pressing on the ruby as instructed.

Tus let out a gasp as he felt as if he was being torn away from his body. His eyes went wide as he watched time rewind. Sand seemed to swirl all around him as he watched in awe struck wonder as the petals reattached to the flower. Water drew back into the now whole vase as it righted itself back onto the table. Then before he knew it, he felt himself being pulled back into his own body with a snap.

The sand around him vanished. Tus looked down at this hand to see it empty. His wide eyes shot back up to Tamina who was in possession of the dagger and everything was as it was before the Princess knocked the vase over.

By the crowned prince's sudden change in demeanor, Tamina glanced down at the dagger and noticed the sands were half empty. She paused for a moment, trying to wrap her own mind around what had just happened. This was the first time the dagger was used in front of her, well the first time that she could remember. Before she could lose herself in her own thoughts, Tamina knocked the vase over and walked to Garsiv. He slowly took the dagger from her hand, his eyes however where focused at Tus. He could not understand his brother's complete shocked reaction. So the Princess knocked some vase, what was the big deal?

"Press the jewel," Tamina reminded.

Garsiv looked down and noticed how dull the dagger was before he cautiously pressed the red jewel.

The sudden feeling of being thrown backwards from his body caused Garsiv to quickly raise the dagger up in a ready position as if he was about to be attacked. Dull blade or not, it was still a form of weapon, and not having the slightest clue on what was happening he would use whatever he could to defend himself. Yet as he watched time move backwards, all of his military training went right out the temple's windows as he started to freak out. What his eyes saw went against everything he ever believed in.

Garsiv let out a curse as he was slammed back into his body. His eyes widened to match his brother as his jaw became lose. Another staggered curse escaped his lips as he stared at the dagger that was in Tamina's hand. His head snapped to Tus and saw a mirrored expression. Garsiv looked down at this empty hand, to the guards, to the perfectly unbroken vase, then to Tamina before looking back at Tus. His shocked face screamed to his brother "Did you see that?!" while Tus' expression was clearly saying "I'm still not sure what I saw."

Tamina had to hold back a laugh at the two Persian Princes reaction. She looked down at the glass handle and saw that the sand was completely gone. Figuring as such, she pulled on the gold change around her neck lifting up a small jewel that matched the dagger's handle. Tamina glanced up at the men and noticed how they watched her every move. She flipped open the top of both the dagger and the necklace then proceeded to pour the small amount of sand into the dagger. Once every grain of sand was emptied from the necklace, she latched the lid back on the dagger and looked up at Bis.

Bis looked at the people around the room. Did he miss something? The Princess had just told them to press the jewel on the dagger's hilt when she hands it to them, and his best friend's two brothers were suddenly acting the she had just disrobed in front of them. Suddenly there was a loud crash as Tamina swiped vase off the table. Bis casted a side glance to Tus and Garsiv who were staring at him with a wide eyed expression of bewilderment and excitement. When Bis looked back at the Princess, she was standing right in front of him holding the dagger. He took the dagger from her hand and noticed that it was the same dagger that Dastan had had back when he found the prince standing in the middle of Alamut's' streets just after the battle. He looked back up at the three people around him and found their focus was still on him. Without any more thought he pressed the jewel.

Sand swirled all around him as Bis could not believe what he was seeing. He watched above everyone else, including himself, as the last few moments moved backwards in time. The sands of time ran out sending Bis back into this body just as Tamina moved to tip over the single white flower on the brass table.

"What the hell…" Bis shocked filled words stopped the Princess from destroying the vase.

Bis looked over at Tus and Garsiv with huge eyes and a gapping mouth, as Tamina looked down at the dagger to see it empty and her necklace as well. Now the moment for explanations was upon them. She wasted no time and told them how the dagger came into being, the sand glass below the city, and explained how it worked. The men stood there silent and awe struck, taking in all that she was saying. Then, when she was finished, she allowed them to speak.

"Am I to guess that this dagger was the reason my Uncle wanted us to invade your city?" Tus finally asked, after a few minutes to process what he had just learned.

"Yes."

"And that is how Dastan came to know such knowledge in such a short time?" Garsiv spoke up, yet still confused about it all.

Tamina still found it amazing that she could choose to trust such men. Revealing such secrets was hard for her and the more she told didn't make it any easier.

"From what he told me, Dastan lived through three weeks before time sent him back. He had figured out Nizam wanted the dagger in order to go back in time to when he and your father were hunting. Apparently there was some lion that Nizam did not want to save your father from."

"What?" Both Tus and Garsiv spoke unable to wrap their minds around the severity of their Uncle's treachery. They all knew what story she spoke of.

"However," Tamina continued softly "Nizam apparently had no quarrel with killing to get this dagger."

"What do you mean?" Bis finally spoke.

"Dastan did not speak much about it," she cautiously continued. "But apparently Nizam poisoned your father and framed Dastan. As he was fleeing for his life, you," she motioned to Bis, "were killed as you were helping him. Later on, Garsiv you were killed by a Hassasin, and Tus, Nizam slit your throat. Each time Dastan was right there, unable to stop it."

Tus closed his eyes as his fingers ran across his rosary, saying a prayer for his brother, as he knew not what do with this information. Garsiv looked straight ahead; his eyes glazed and face tight with emotion. Bis looked down and away from everyone else, his mind unable to imagine how that must have felt.

It was true. They all knew it in their hearts. After seeing the power of the dagger they knew every word was gospel. Dastan… dear, dear Dastan. He had lived through more than any man should face. Their stomachs twisted in knots as they thought about the pain their brother must have felt. Seeing their father murdered? Being blamed for it? Watching all of them die before his eyes? Now it all made sense! Every action Dastan had taken. Every frantic and pained expression he had ever given them. How could he live with it? But that was the point of it all… he wasn't living anymore but dying each day from the crushing weight of it all.

Tamina watched as each man took in the information and she couldn't help but feel her own emotions welling up in her. She looked at the guards and gave them a silent nod to leave the room; these men were not a threat.

Bis felt his throat closing. "When I found Dastan after the battle on your city," he thickly spoke. "He was shocked to see me standing in front of him," Bis quietly spoke as he seemed to be almost talking to himself as if he was working out a problem he could never before solve. "He kept looking down at my chest as if…"

"As if you we supposed to have a fatal wound there." Garsiv finished as things were finally making sense. "That is why he reacted the way he did when he saw you get attacked by that Hassasin dog and thought you to be dead."

"Because he already watched me die from a chest wound," Bis said in wonder.

Tus recalled it as well. "And why he got all worked up when he saw that you were wounded as well, Garsiv." It was all too fantastic to believe. "Could it be that it was the same Hassasin that killed you?"

"It all makes sense now!" Garsiv exclaimed grimly. Finally, after so much time, they got their answer to their brother's odd behavior; however it was just too painful to hear. "To imagine that Dastan had witnessed the deaths of the four closest people in his life, and even though he changed time, too still remember it all… Gods have mercy on him."

"Actually Prince Tus, it was five," Tamina solemnly added to their added surprise.

"What do you mean five?" Bis asked.

Tamina thought for a moment, wondering if she should tell them or maybe show them. The images of the erased timeline still lingered in the Sand Glass, her death being one of them. She shivered inwardly as the blood chilling cry from Dastan still echoed in her ears. Maybe allowing them to see some of what transpired will give them a better understanding on what Dastan went through.

"Follow me," she said without any further explanation on her comment.

"Where are we going?" Garsiv spoke, clearly not happy with the question of who the fifth death was just left unanswered.

"The Sand Glass, I believe it will be the final piece for you to fully grasp what Dastan went through."

"Princess Tamina, wait," Tus said as he caught up with her at the temple's entrance. "I must know… will Dastan be forever burdened with these memories?"

Tamina took a deep breath as she watched Asoka give Garsiv back his sword, before looking Tus in the eyes. "Yes, I'm afraid he will."

TBC….

A/N: Merry Christmas everyone! I hope everyone has a wonderful holiday season with family and friends and I hope this chapter brings good cheer to you as well. The story is almost over, two or three more chapters left. I have to say this one was fun to write, the different reactions and views about the power of the dagger :-D Well again, Merry Christmas and have a safe and happy New Years!


	12. Seeing What Never Was

_His hand shook as he held the dagger against his brother's throat. Sweat covered his face as he could not slow down the rapid beating of his heart. This was his last chance. This was his last living family member whom he loved more than life itself, and he was holding a dagger to his throat. _

"_If you're going to kill me, best you do it now." _

_The look on his brother's face made Dastan feel nauseous and weak. Did it really all come down to this? Would this be the only way to prove to the newly crowned King the real reason behind his ascension? Dastan looked down at the glass handle. There were only a few grains of sand left. He didn't know if it would be enough. But even though it might not go back far enough, maybe it would be enough to make Tus a believer. Tus had to not only live, but be victorious where he had failed. _

"_I should have had the strength to do this before, before we invaded the city."_

"_What are you talking about?"_

_He gripped the knife and remembered what his father had told him about great men doing what was right, despite what might happen to them. _

"_To act upon what I know was right, no matter the consequences." Dastan grasped the dagger with both hands as he lifted it above his chest. He was about to plunge the mystical dagger into his heart when his brother grasped each arm, stopping the killing blow._

"_Stop! A moment ago, you died before my eyes," Tus stammered, as shock covered his bronzed face. _

_The feeling of confusion filled Dastan as he looked down at the dagger and saw that the handle was empty. Relief washed over him in waves as he placed a trembling hand on his brother's chest, as if to keep himself from collapsing. He hadn't realized how scared he had been. He exhaled, "You pressed it." _

"_How did you know I would?" Tus asked still in disbelief. _

_He couldn't, no he wouldn't hide his smile that stretched on over his face. "Because we are brothers." For the first time since he watched his farther died, Dastan felt like this endless assault of suffering was finally at an end._

_It was as if that moment had been just one blink of happiness, for it seemed in the next blink of his eye, he watched frozen as Nizam ran his sword across his brother's throat. His Uncle made him an orphan for the second time in his life. _

"_It seems the bond between brothers is no longer the sword that defends our empire." Nizam sneered as he left, with the dagger in his hand, to go gain a new lifetime as king. _

_Blackness swirled in Dastan's mind. With Tamina's attack cry gave Dastan the distraction needed to kill the Hassansin who had been seconds away from running his double-bladed halberd_ _into him. These men deserved more than death, his mind seethed. Looking down at his brother's now lifeless body, thoughts of revenge began coursing through his veins. Tamina was speaking behind him, but he wasn't listening. All thoughts swarmed around anger and hate as he closed his brother's eyes. Oh he would make his Uncle pay dearly for this! Thick incense began swirling around him and quickly became a thick heavy red fog within the room. Nizam would die for this. Dastan stood from his brother's body and turned to run after the traitor. The red smoky haze around him darkened his path as he ran. In Dastan's rage he swore that this time it would be him that would finish off Nizam rather than Tus. _

_Suddenly, it was as if someone had pressed the jewel on the dagger's hilt, as Dastan was thrown backwards. 'NO!' his mind shouted. He didn't want to go backwards in time, as the scenes around him surged backwards and swirled in red sands. He did not go back too far but found himself kneeling over his brother's dead body once more. His mind cried out. No, he didn't want to stay here at his side. The longer he remained there the more he mourned. He had wanted to stay in the safe harbor of fury and rage rather than be adrift in the sea of emotions that constantly surrounded him. He now found himself wading out into the tides of grief. _

_Tamina was once again trying to say something behind him, but he could only hear bits and pieces as tears now spilled from his eyes as he closed his brother's once more._

"_Priest….temple….discovered…" but her voice faded as he touched his brother's prayer beads. _

_How could he stand this? Tus was the big brother he looked up to most. He had thrived off of the praises he would get from him. He loved him more than anything and now he lay here dead. _

_As Dastan knelt there the room grew pitch black as the blood from Tus's neck flowed faster. Soon the whole floor was coated in his bright red blood within the pitch black void of Dastan's despair. He couldn't handle this. He had no one left. He wearily tried to stand and found himself on shaky legs. The pools of blood sickened him as he tried to walk away. With each step across the pools of blood at his feet, his body felt more resistance to pull him back. He couldn't even reach where the door was suppose to be amidst the blackness before the draw on his body allowed him to leave no further. Dastan let out a horrid, desperate cry as he finally lost the battle and was pulled backwards thorough time once more. The veil of darkness seem to roll up like a curtain and wiped away the ocean of blood at his feet, as the sands drew him backwards. The moment he felt his soul slam back into his body he found himself standing over Tus's lifeless form yet again. _

_Panic filled Dastan as he began to hyperventilate. Why couldn't he leave? He heard Tamina's voice say "…. corrupted… infected…." But he had to get out of there. Jumping up, Dastan bolted for the door, but this time no matter how fast he ran the doorway grew farther and farther away as the room stretched long. Dastan let out a frustrated yell as he collapsed to the floor in exhaustion, losing the battle, and was surged backwards. _

_Dastan choked back a final sob as he just stood there numb with his eyes squeezed shut. He didn't want to open them and see what he knew would be before him. Why was it so important to remain in this moment? Would he ever be able to leave this room? He felt his body kneel down to close Tus's eyes once more, and as he opened his eyes to do so, he couldn't help but feel like this was all such a horrible never-ending play. His mind began pleading with whatever force that was keeping him kneeled over his brother's body to just let him go. He wanted desperately to move on; to go and stop Nizam from winning. However, when time began moving forward, it was as if all the sound in the room was gone, and in his now numb state, all his thoughts were stripped away. The room seemed whitewashed as if he had been staring at the sun too long, and his senses seemed suppressed, but one suddenly clear sound remained; Tamina's voice. _

"_He was one of us. He was a priest of the temple. That's how Nizam discovered the existence of the sandglass. They've corrupted the Guardians. Infected us. We're no longer pure."_

Dastan violently bolted up from his bed awake. His body damp with sweat, his heart hammering in his chest. His breaths came out in short, quick gasps as he consciously realized what his nightmares had been trying to show him within his Alamutain sleeping quarters. Nizam had spies within the temple!

In the early morning light, Dastan ripped the sheets off him and leapt off the bed, grabbing his swords in almost a seamless motion. He ran out of his room barefoot and shirtless. He didn't give a damn about his appearance. He picked a direction and ran. His body never feeling the stabbing pain of healing wounds with each stride as adrenaline seemed to numb him. He never noticed the looks from the guards and other palace occupants as he ran down the sun-warmed halls.

He needed to find his brothers. He needed to tell Tamina that there was still a threat. He knew the Hassasin from his dreams had been killed already during the battle with the Hassansins a week ago. Yet Dastan did not want to take the chance that there could be more of Nizam's men hidden away in the temple's daily life. For Dastan, if there was anyone still alive who had a hand in Nizam's plot, there was still something to be feared. There was still some small chance a certain history could be repeated.

* * *

Princes Tamina guided the three Persian men down from the High Temple and through corridor after corridor, down staircase after staircase, in a never ending walk which felt more like a tour of every nook and cranny rather than a proper escort. Furthermore, Tamina's pace was set to a respectful glide rather than a hurried, purpose driven march, which in turn burned up Garsiv's patience faster than horse hair in a brush fire. It nearly seemed Tamina was taking them around in circles. Yet with all that had been revealed that morning, all three men needed that time to calm down and digest what they had learned. How was one supposed to mentally accept the fact that they had all been killed once before, in such horrible ways, and with Dastan to stand and bear witness to it all?

Tamina could care less if the three burly men behind her wanted fast answers. She had her own reasons for walking gracefully slow. She couldn't be seen in a rush. Her people were still on edge with the Persians in their midst's and not all of the palace staff knew of the secrets that lay below.

Eventually the halls began to change from a bold elegance to a simpler older stone and brick foundation. It was clear that they were now well below the palace now. The three men followed silently onward and without hesitation as she then surprisingly lead them through a hidden passage and across a delicate maze.

The gravity of secrecy was not lost to them now. They clearly understood why this foreign princess had said not even their father could know of such secrets.

Then, after walking down yet another decayed staircase, each Persian man was hit with sudden awestruck wonder at the sight of the Sandglass, as their swears and prayers echoed off the rock walls. Eyes stared transfixed forward with pure captivation at the reddish-orange glow that emitted from the staggered glass pillar which seemed to stretch upwards forever.

Tamina took a deep breath. The sands within the glass were still aggressively swirling showing signs to her that the glass had been tampered with still. She had almost feared that upon arriving nothing would be amiss and that she had dreamt it all. There was still so much for the guardians to learn.

"What is this magic?" Garsiv asked first, unable to tear his gaze away. Never in his life had he felt so small.

A smirk now crossed Tamina's face as she took in the sight of the three once intimidating men, now reduced to trembling pudding.

"This is the Sandglass. It holds the Sands of Time and is what your Uncle had searched for. It was here where Dastan was able to finally stop your Uncle from trying to travel back to his childhood, which would, in reality, have caused the Sandglass to break, releasing a massive sandstorm that would have destroyed the whole world." Tamina informed as they stood there looking at it from a distance.

"That dammed fool," Garsiv muttered.

Tamina ignored him. "Now there is still much to be learned from this incident; never before has the glass been pierced."

"Pierced?" Bis asked questioningly.

"Yes, you see if you take the dagger and stab it into the glass you give the hilt of the dagger full access to all the sands combined. By opening the jeweled end in that state, all the sands would begin spilling out into our world."

Garsiv was catching on now. "So to stop the sands from escaping you'd only have to close the ruby back onto the handle and remove the dagger."

"Exactly," she concurred.

"So Dastan…" Bis searched for the right words.

"Nizam pierced the glass and began releasing the sand. Dastan fought with him and somehow managed to stop the escaping sands and took possession of the dagger. However, three weeks time's worth of sand had escaped during their struggle resulting in the saving of my city and many untold lives."

Tus finally spoke. "So our time returned to us, giving us the chance to replace darkness for light. How is it that he remembers everything while we do not… you don't remember any of this yourself do you?"

"No," Tamina was quick to answer. "Being a guardian makes me sensitive to such changes, but I recall nothing of these events. As for Dastan, just like your experience with the broken vase, he remembers everything because he was the last one in possession of the dagger. If it had been Nizam, I'm sure none of us would be alive right now."

That was a sobering thought to all. The sounds of flowing sand softened in its everlasting pulsating cycle.

"Knowing my brother," Tus finally spoke again. "He did not tell you about this freely. How did you come to know that Dastan knew about these special Sands of Time?"

Both Garsiv and Bis instantly wanted to know that answer as well. Dastan had been a steal trap for information. None of them had been able to get close to him.

Tamina thought for a moment then began guiding them all closer to the Sandglass. "I first had suspicions back when he returned the dagger to me upon our first meeting. There was no way Prince Dastan could have known about the importance of that dagger had he no knowledge of its power. His manner and choice of words plagued my thoughts and soon after the days of celebrations and feasts, I personally came down here to check the Sandglass for myself. I knew that there was no where near the amount of sand in the dagger needed for him to learn all I had assumed he had learned. And there was also the fact that the dagger was still full of the right kind of sand when he returned it to me. When I saw this," Tamina pointed to the scar in the glass, "I knew something far great had happened."

Garsiv looked skeptical. "From just a scar in a glowing glass pillar you knew that time had been changed?"

"No, that was not all… the Sandglass showed me far more than this." Tamina's eyes grew distant as she relieved all that she had witnessed.

The look on her face gave Tus pause. Why did this princess seem to genuinely care for Dastan's wellbeing? "Who was the fifth person, whom Dastan cared for, yet died before his eyes?" he asked gently.

Tamina broke from her wandering thoughts and looked at her soon to be brother-in-law and smiled a sad smile. She then raised her hand up and placed it on the Sandglass to rest upon the scar. Suddenly the Sandglass awakened as a blood curdling scream filled the caverns. Everyone jumped and Garsiv went for his sword at the sudden cry. Tamina gestured up at the Sandglass and they all watched her fall to her death.

"_TAMINA! NO!" came Dastan's desperate cry. _

The sands swirled within the glass showing images Tamina had already witnessed. Scenes when her emotions were at the highest seem to play out first, she surmised, as she watched her other self once more.

For the men, there was nothing that either man could say to describe the thoughts that were racing through their heads. The power of the dagger was more than enough to cause them to rethink everything they thought they knew. However, when standing at the base of such might and power, the Persian's didn't have the ability to think comprehensibly at all.

The look on Dastan's face as Tamina fell to her death caused fear to fill their souls. They watched as Tamina fell, losing sight of their brother, and violently clipping her shoulder on a rock ledge, breaking bones, sending her into a violent spiral. Her cries cut short as her head cracked against another rock ledge and continued to fall until she was too far from the dagger scope of sight to have her fate recorded.

Then other scene's of Hassasin's attacking, snakes striking and desert sand storms played across the glass. Yet more surprising were scenes of tenderness and treachery both from Tamina herself. They watched her try and cut Dastan down or knock him out with a bone, but they all were caught off guard and blushed when they saw Tamina and Dastan share a heated kiss.

Tamina was lost for words. She hadn't seen that image before. It seemed there was no rhyme or reason to the order of the images that played before them.

"I don't have all the answers myself," she grasped for words. She worked to suppress that last image. "In fact, I'm not sure why this past timeline now remains trapped within the glass. All I've surmised is anything that happened near the dagger was recorded by it; regardless if the jewel had been pressed or not."

"Amazing," Tus muttered.

The sands stopped playing images which caused Garsiv to finally drop his eyes. After a moment he smirked and looked to Tus. "Good thing you offered Princes Tamina's hand to Dastan rather than yourself," he chuckled.

Tus rolled his eyes at the thought of that sort of trouble. Bis laughed openly at that thought.

"Yes," Tamina's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Please regal me with how your decision making process was made."

Tus took a wise step back with a slight bow. Bis and Garsiv tried to stifle their smiles.

"Right," she finally decided. "Back to the reasons why I brought you all here. You all wanted to know what nightmares plagued your brother. Prince Tus… place your hand now on the glass. It seems the Sandglass reacts better to touch."

Tus just nodded his head, he was too curious to find out more about this power to ask any further questions. With reverence, he stepped up and laid a hand on the red tinted glass and suddenly the sands inside started to churn more fiercely. Images of a time lost shifted to show glimpses of celebration between the crown prince and his younger brother, but it quickly changed to a clear image of Dastan holding the dagger to Tus' throat.

"_If you are going to kill me, best you do it now." _Tus heard his own voice speak with animosity.

Before anyone could respond to that, they watched Dastan remove the dagger from Tus's throat and plunged it into his own chest. Tamina had seen this image flash before, from the vantage place she had on the balcony, but it still pained her to see it yet again.

For Dastan's brothers, they had all mentally prepared themselves to see their own deaths, but none of them had been prepared for the first Persian death to be witnessed to belong to Dastan himself.

A few tears fell from Tus's wide eyes. "Dastan had to kill himself in order for me to believe him?" his jaw slacked as he watched him press the jewel and rewind his brother's suicide. Only to then watch their Uncle, without hesitation, slit Tus' throat before Dastan could stop him. The following scene of Tamina and Dastan killing an enemy and return to Tus's side was harder to bear than imagined. Tus felt cold watching his own blood seep from his neck and knew in that instant he'd never be the same for it.

Soon the Sand's images no longer made any sense as nothing was decipherable.

Tus covered his face. "So that's why…" he choked. His frustration against himself seemed unbearable. "Dastan had to kill himself in order for me to believe him!" he repeated. "Is it no wonder why he doesn't open up to me anymore."

Bis and Garsiv looked down as they felt that shame. All of them had been thinking Dastan had been going mad recently.

"There is more to be seen," Tamina reminded.

Bis took that queue, and moved past Tus to touch the glass himself. The Sands had only two strong images to share, and it was disheartening to all three men. For Dastan's scream that echoed in the caverns was a heartbreaking sound. It was a sound of pure pain straight from the heart and was a sound that they all could relate to. They watched as the King had been killed then the images jumped to Dastan trying to escape. As those few images played out, clearly the look on Bis's face showed his confusion. In a banquet hall amongst friends an attack was never imagined. Bis, within that single moment, had tried to fight for his friend's escape, but was ultimately cut down dead.

By now they were all in some form of shock or another. It was just too painful to watch, yet they couldn't tear their eyes away. The following image of Dastan returning to the streets having been victorious now played, yet they were still hung up on their father's death.

The images faded back to a pulsing orange and red as they all worked to catch their breaths.

Both blood brother's eyes were red having seen their father burned to death with poison. They loved their father and couldn't before imagine him dying.

Bis rubbed his eyes. "Dastan couldn't even mourn for us," he spoke although his throat was closing.

Tamina nodded. She worked to keep a level head amongst the strong emotions surrounding her. "Prince Dastan's sorrow began with two deaths right from the start."

Garsiv took a deep breath. If Bis had died so quickly, while Tus's death had to have been later because Dastan had been back at the palace for that, Garsiv was hesitant to see what his fate had been. The Sandglass seemed to take on new life to Garsiv, as it seemed to him that it was waiting for the last person to react to. Fear was not a common emotion for the warrior to face, yet here and now Garsiv felt filled with it. Slowly he reached towards the Sandglass and the moment the tip of his finger touched the rough glass, the caverns turned a deep dark red.

"_Seize the murder!" _

"_After the murder!"_

"_Then god will pardon you, after your head rolls." _

Pure rage rang with the echoing words that Garsiv spat out against Dastan, his younger brother. Each word cut straight through the warrior now watching it play out before him. It seemed that Garsiv had been the true enemy that Dastan had been running from, and it was clear that he had been out for blood.

Garsiv saw all that he wanted, yet the Sandglass was not done showing the altered past. He had corned Dastan in a cave, however as Dastan spoke unheard words, that Garsiv's expression softened. Still, everyone knew that just like Tus and Bis, Garsiv would soon meet his end. Sure enough, and with Dastan right there to witness it all, Garsiv was murdered by the same Hassasin that almost killed him just the other day.

The glow of the Sandglass finally faded back to its orange-red color and continued its never-ending pulse of swirling sands.

* * *

Back above within the Alamutain Palace, the staff was all in chatter about the young Persian prince, man that was due to wed their only Princess, running wild through the palace halls shirtless and armed for attack. There had been rumors that perhaps the Prince was suffering from battle fatigue and might not be in his right mind.

To Dastan's frustration, he couldn't find anyone. He had run to Tus, Garsiv, Bis and even Tamina's bed chambers but found no one. He had checked the baths, the throne room, and council room. Any passing guards he had spoken to, asked for the whereabouts on his brothers and Tamina, either didn't know or failed to answer him fast enough as Dastan bolted down the next corridor.

With a ragged breath, Dastan halted for a moment in the gardens as he thought. The morning sun was now out.

"That must be it!" he spoke to himself as he took off again, this time, to the banquet hall and then on to the less formal dining hall. Perhaps they were all breaking the fast and were eating now.

He arrived at one of the smaller banquet rooms to find it all set up for the morning meal. There stood a few high palace officials clearly waiting for the arrival of their princess before the breaking of the bread. Dastan looked around and did not see the people he was in search for, and that added to his stress. Tus was always the first at the table, for he, like their father, was strict in Morning Prayer. More so, what he knew of his bride-to-be, Tamina was not the type of person to be late and keep others waiting. So where in the blazes could they be?

"The High Temple!" Dastan now thought. Turing quickly, Dastan knocked over a servant with a jug of wine as he fled from the room en route to the staircases.

To his annoyance, Dastan's speed began to slow. Pain now filled each step as his healing injuries began to make themselves known. His initial adrenalin dump, which had masked the pain of his wounds, was now fading away as it was taking too long to search such a large area.

With each step he took up the High Temple stairs, his ankle throbbed and a curse escaped with each labored breath. He had long switched hands, as the swords became heavy in his wounded arm and he knew he needed to save his strength whenever he found the hidden traitor.

And as much pain Dastan was in, he would not stop. He had to keep everyone safe. He was their only chance.

* * *

Far off in another part of the palace tucked away in a small servant corridor, five men gathered in the shadows, eyes darting around them making sure they were alone. Four of them were clothed with the standard palace servant attire, while the fifth had embroidered ribbons signifying the mark of a guardian. Yet, even though their clothes were white and pure, a hidden darkness seeped through the linen.

"Something is amiss," the guardian whispered.

A mock laugh quietly echoed around them. "Are you talking about the sudden death of Nizam? Or the destruction of the Hassansins?" the second man asked sardonically.

The others found no amusement.

"The Princess took the two blood sons of the Persian King and the man servant of the third to the High Temple," the guardian clarified.

"But she's guided them away from there without incident," the third man informed.

"Yes, but they seemed to be heading below the main palace floors towards the lower levels," the guardian added.

"Do you think she is telling them about the dagger?" the fourth man asked.

"From the temple to below the palace, is there any other options?" the fifth concluded.

A guard making his rounds put a halt to the secret conversation as the servants bid the guard a good morning. When they knew they were once again alone, they start the conversation again.

"If they knew about Nizam and the Hassansins, there could be a good chance our identities have be revealed," the fourth man now reasoned.

"What are you suggesting?" the third asked.

"We go and discover the unfortunate fall of our beloved Princess and the Persian men," the guardian decided.

"Is that wise?" asked the third.

"It is their deaths, or ours."

* * *

Dastan finally arrived to the highest most level of the palace temple and slid to a halt when he reached the sacred doors. "Where are they?" he immediately demanded when he saw the head guard standing in front of the doors. Asoka shouldn't normally be standing such a lowly watch as guard duty.

"Where are-" Dastan then ran out of air as he doubled over, hands on his knees, gasping for breath.

Asoka was completely taken off guard by the state in which the youngest Persian prince was in. He had been left to guard the dagger for the remainder of the morning just in case the Persian's tried to return to steal it, but he never imagined Dastan would show up. Dastan had been recovering from many severe wounds, harsh travel, poor sleep, along with little nourishment; yet here he was, out of bed, out of breath, and full of alarm.

He finally stood tall again and tried to swallow although his throat was parched.

"Where are they?" he now commanded again.

"Princess Tamina and your Brothers are not here," Asoka said with indifference in his appearance, but was in great alarm.

That was not the answer Dastan wanted, and he was through playing games. "Are you a Guardian?" Dastan quickly demanded.

Now Asoka could not hide the shock from that question, "I don't…" he stumbled.

"Now look," Dastan sighed deeply but that did not slow down his words, "I know everything. Tamina knows that I know everything and if you truly understand what I mean when I say that I know everything, you must tell me where they are right now!"

"They were here at dawn, but left an hour ago." Asoka informed without hesitation. He had a feeling that this Dastan had been different from most men and might already know something. For what other reasons could Tamina bring his brothers up to the Holy Temple?

"Where did-"

"The Princess took your brothers and your man servant Bis, down below the palace."

"To the Sandglass?" Dastan exclaimed with shocked confusion. He shook his head as to keep his mind on the immediate threat. "Did they take any weapons with them?"

"Prince Garsiv was the only one with a sword, my Lord," he said now truly worried.

"Asoka, it is vital that you get weapons for them and take it to them immediately, there is possibly a great threat within your palace. Hurry," Dastan urged Asoka to get moving. "I will meet you there."

"Do you know-"

"Yes, I have been down there before."

Asoka did as commanded, knowing that there were other guards inside the treasure room remaining who could protect the dagger in his absents.

Dastan watched as Asoka hurried down the stairs. He then briefly turned and faced the panoramic view of the city below and took in a deep breath. Such beauty. Dastan then prayed silently to the gods that today would be the final day to rid the remnats of his Uncle's villainous plot from the world. He could only pray Tamina and his brothers were still safe.

Dastan left the view of the city behind him. He had to hurry. He still had coutless stairs left to descend and only one thing on his mind.

"This time I am not letting you go."

* * *

Back at the Sandglass far below the main palace halls, Garsiv was having a hard time accepting his other-self's actions.

"Damn," Garsiv muttered. "Dastan is right now recovering from wounds I SHOULD HAVE RECEIVED. And THIS! THIS IS HOW I WOULD HAVE REACTED?" Garsiv began pacing. His frustration could be easily felt. "He is my little brother and I would protect him at any cost, yet with such feeble evidence I instantly condemn him! I WOULD BE DEAD RIGHT NOW… TWICE DEAD, IF IT WEREN'T FOR HIM!"

"I thought he was a murderer as well," Tus softly reminded, although to say those words out loud tasted far bitter than anything he had ever before tasted.

Tamina Knew a mired of strong emotions were pressed up against the surface of them all, however she needed them to focus not on just themselves, but back on Dastan. Although she was unsure if she'd get the result she wanted, she reached up and touched the glass again.

All eyes darted up towards the glass as Nizam's brutal actions flung Tamina into the abyss only to be caught by Dastan. They hadn't seen any of this before and had only witnessed the immediate fall, but now they stood transfixed upon Dastan's face.

"_It's not my destiny, but yours."_

They watched Tamina say.

"_It always has been…. Let me go."_

"_I'M NOT LETTING YOU GO!" Dastan shouted._

Tus brought a hand to his face. Dastan's three adoptive brothers stood in wide eyed shock at the pain in their brother's voice.

"_I wished we could have been together."_

They then watched as this first assumingly delicate spiritual princess, bravely wrench her hand from Dastan's to fall to her assured death. Such sacrifice caused the Persian's to find new respect in this princess, but they couldn't wrap their minds around the pain their brother had faced at losing her.

"_TAMINA! NO!" Dastan screamed_.

The Sands surged once more, clearing the images, and returning back to flowing sands.

Although they were all harden men, after the stresses of the past weeks, tears fell from their eyes. Dear Dastan.

So much death and personal loss…

Countless forms of pain felt and inflicted…

Living with secrets…

Trying to save lives yet not be trusted…

It was impossible to take it all in.

Bis was the first to manage to speak. "He lost everything," he painfully shook his head. "He not only lost us all, the King, you two, and myself… but he couldn't even save you with his own hands. That sort of thing would eat away at Dastan."

Tus wiped his eyes. "Is it no wonder how much he fears for our lives. He feels he is powerless to save us when danger strikes."

Tamina then realized she had been biting her lip to keep it from trembling. It was not an easy thing to see. The sounds, images, and feelings were so strong in this sacred place.

Garsiv just stared blankly up. "I don't ever think I will forget that look on his face."

They all nodded to that. Such raw emotion displayed wasn't something one sees every day.

Tus took a deep ragged breath. "It's hard not reliving every past encounter I've had with him from the moment I stepped foot onto the steps of your palace, to now… I see it all differently now, but I'm sure my mind will be resting on nothing else but that for the foreseeable future. However, for now…" Tus then turned his sights to the woman who had offered them her sacred trust. "Thank you," he said as he kneeled before her and bowed his head.

Garsiv and Bis were quick to follow. "Thank you, Princess Tamina," they said in near unison.

Their sincerity momentarily shocked Tamina. How many years of her life did she grow up believing Persians, and other such nations, couldn't be as civilized as her people? She knew then in that moment she'd never look down on others like that again.

Prince Tus didn't wait for a reply as he stood back up to be face to face with Tamina.

"I really do thank you," he said again as Garsiv and Bis now stood as well. "We never would have guessed that our little brother had to endure so much if it hadn't been for you."

"Yes," Bis agreed. "Now we can truly be a help to him now."

"But," Garsiv cleared his voice from lingering emotion, "but how will this help Dastan? How can we undo what we have done to him?" he widely gestured.

Tus put a reassuring hand on his brother's tense shoulder. "We can only give him our support, our understanding, yet remind him that even though we might have reacted the way we saw this morning, that every situation is different."

"One tiny moment can change a person's view," Tamina added.

"He should be more open to us when we explain to him that we understand," Bis hoped.

Yet they all had that little voice in their head that said it would not be that easy. It was clear, more to Garsiv and Tus, that their past words scared their brother more than their deaths. They would not say it out loud, but they envied Bis. For their brother's best friend gave up his life to protect Dastan, while they had sought his end.

TBC...

* * *

A/N: I AM SO SORRY for the long wait! If I had the power of the dagger I would turn back time so you guys would not have to wait so long for this chapter. I hope you all enjoy it and can forgive the time delay…..did the length of the chapter helped? (Longest one of the story) The story is coming to its end, I am sad to say. I just hope that the ending will be all to your liking. It shouldn't take two months for the next chapter…I pretty much have the whole thing played out in my head, I just got to get it down on 'paper'.


	13. The Final Battle

A/N: I am so so so so so so so so sorry for the huge gap between updates. I can blame it on life, college, travel, death in the family, lack of muse….all is true but still, I am so sorry for the really long wait. When I first posted this story I thought I only had like 3 more chapters to write….yeah those 3 chapters turned into 7 and growing. Had I known this story would take on new life and grow I would have waited long before posting this story. "But what a glorious mess we are". I have 1 maybe 2 more chapters left before completion. I am working on them right now so I'm praying it would not take as long to post. Sorry again guys for the long wait. Hope you all enjoy this chapter. It was a pain to write.

**Chapter Thirteen: The Final Battle**

Dastan had breathed out countless curses as he made the painful trek down from the High Temple. One thing that he now cursed, more than anything, was the fact that he failed to grab his sheaths before bolting from his room. For if he had had the foresight to bring it with him, he would have been able to easily strap his swords to his back, freeing him to leap out of windows and swing from ledges. Gravity would have easily helped him descend the dizzying heights of the temple, although attempting such acrobats would cause him nearly debilitating levels of pain. _Oh but it would be so much faster_, his mind mourned. But he had rushed out of his chambers without thinking about anything other than finding his brothers. A brief thought crossed his mind. He could leave his swords behind, but he shook his head at the fleeting thought. An unknown number of enemies were possibly hiding all around him, and in all honesty, he didn't have the strength to scale walls and drop down from balconies.

His strength was already long gone prior to reaching Asoka. The will to drive onward was all that kept him moving.

He knew there had to be a faster way to reach the caverns, but he only knew of one sure way and he hadn't wanted to waste time earlier for Asoka to verbally guide him. Dastan was still new to this palace.

Dastan headed to the chambers which had plagued his dreams for weeks; the chambers where Tus was killed and where Tamina had shown him the path to the Sandglass. His feet stopped the moment he stood before the threshold, forcing him to look into the room before him. It was then that Dastan realized that this was the same room where he lost not only Tus, but his father and best friend as well. How could one room cause his heart to ache so much?

A loud crash of brass echoed down the hall snapped Dastan back into the present. He shook his mind free of his family's death and now followed the path of his memories down to the Sandglass.

Adrenaline once again began to numb his growing pain as his pace picked up. The end was coming. Finally, for once, he wasn't being pulled back into that room, but onward towards a new fate.

* * *

"So, what will be our plan of action?" Garsiv finally spoke after some time had passed for all of them to collect their thoughts and emotions. They were still standing beneath the ever overpowering presence of the Sandglass.

Tus could not help but smile at his brother's choice of words. "Well my dear Brother, I think we need to find Dastan and simply talk to him. Let him know that we have a clear understanding of what he went through and what he still carries with him. Then hopefully, Dastan will finally open up and let us help him carry this burden."

"Bis," Tamina turned to the man, "do you know if Dastan was planning on going back out on the streets to meet with the families of lost loved ones this morning?"

Bis shared a sad smile. "I honestly cannot say. But knowing how much he blames himself and pushes himself, I would bet that he indeed plans on meeting with the remaining families, if not doing so already."

"Well then," Tus said with a deep breath, "we shall wait for Dastan to return… if indeed he has already left us this morning."

"And see what condition he is in upon his return, before we speak to him about all of this." Garsiv sincerely added to everyone's surprise.

"Shall we head back up and have the morning meal?" Tamina suggested as there was nothing left for them down in the caverns. And in all reality, being in the same place where she had fallen to her death, Tamina would feel better being above ground.

"Lead the way," Tus stepped aside allowing the Princess to pass.

* * *

The décor of the palace walls started to change and Dastan knew he was getting closer to the secret passage. He had not seen Asoka and hopped that the head guard had gotten to his brothers and Tamina already just for safety's sake. What small part of Dastan's mind that was still rational, was telling himself that he was overreacting. It had been weeks since his uncle's treachery had been discovered, and yet there had been no other incident within the Holy City. Why would there be any cause for him to believe that, if any others remained, that they would act the moment the realization occurred to him? Maybe time was on his side this time.

Dastan turned a corner, it was his last hallway before turning down the passage which held the secret door. Bare feet tried to gain traction while his leg counterparts stopped in mid stride causing him to slide to a sudden stop. His labored breath easily carried down the hall as a multiple of footsteps from the other end of the hallway stopped before him. To Dastan's horror, five strangers faced off with him, both just a few yards away from the last corridor.

"Prince Dastan, um what, is everything alright?" The high temple priest hesitated with unexpected shock. His unique ribbons on his uniform clearly showed his rank as a temple priest.

Dastan's eyes narrowed as he analyzed those before him, but didn't speak.

"Forgive me for saying," one of the servants began, "but you don't look well. Is there something we can fetch you?"

Yeah, he was sure he looked like hell. He was shaking against his will from fatigue, yet he worked to catch his breath and stood just a bit taller. "What are _you_ doing down here?" he demanded as he gripped his swords just a bit tighter.

Dastan's cold hard look clearly unnerved them slightly.

"News of your rampage throughout the palace got us worried so-"

"So a priest and four servants armed themselves and decided to check the base of the palace," Dastan cut him off.

"We found you, didn't we?" The priest said with a hidden smirk as he took a step forward.

"Why did you do it?" Dastan demanded as he too took a step forward.

The leader cocked his head slightly, "What do you mean, young Prince? Are you sure you would not like one of us to fetch you some wine?"

Dastan couldn't be deceived any longer. "Alamut is not a violent Empire, so no one but your guards would go looking for a possible threat as well as the fact servants here do not carry swords! Now, I ask you again, why did you do it?"

Blue eyes watched as the men fanned out within the hall, an obvious sign they planned to circle around Dastan for attack, but a slight raise in his swords stopped them from moving further. If he had been in perfect health, he wouldn't have a shred of doubt; he knew victory would be guaranteed. However in the state he was in now, Dastan only hoped he would successfully cut them all down before surely dying himself.

"That might be so," a servant countered, "but we are loyal to our Princess and seek her safely if that means the cost of our lives."

Those words lit a fire within Dastan. "I am tired of hearing lies of loyalty! You," Dastan pointed his sword at the priest, "of all, would know that your one and only duty is the protection of the dagger, and know Tamina would die to keep it safe. That is your one and only sworn duty. And four servants, from clearly different palace duty positions due to your attire, would not gather together with weapons, solely because of an injured prince running about the palace. For the last time, why have you betrayed your people?"

The priest dropped his smile and looked onward with disgust. This wasn't how things were supposed to be. How did this one piece of Persian filth seem to ruin all that he had hoped for? "We underestimated you, Prince Dastan. For a Persian heathen you have done a good job destroying years of planning. Not even your Uncle knew how many of us joined his network of spies, after all, we had answered to the Hassansins first of all."

Dastan seethed with rage.

"But our reasons, for what you call betrayal, are irrelevant. However, I must now thank you. Your presence has created a tale that would be more accepted by our people."

"What are you saying?" Dastan had to ask, as they both inched their way closer and now were in the center of the hall, where the other corridor connected, merely a few swords lengths away.

He answered with grandeur. "The young Persian Prince, who has been ill and seen frantically running around the palace with his swords, finally lost his mind and murdered his brothers and our beloved Princess before falling onto his own swords." The priest raised his swords, ready to fight and the four servants followed suit. Nothing would stop them. It was his life or theirs.

Dastan raised his swords and steadied his breathing as his body automatically moved into his fighting stance. His mind prepared him that this might be his last moments in this world. However, he vowed slightly that he would not fall until his opponents laden the ground with their lifeless bodies.

"The only blood that will be spilt will be your own." Dastan spoke to the group of men with steadfast determination.

"You are wounded and outnumbered. Your death will be swift," they mocked ready to lunge in the next heartbeat.

Suddenly a blur of moment interrupted the standoff and Dastan noticed the traitors take a few steps back, before he recognized the people that now stood next to him. A moment of panic overtook Dastan.

"Garsiv, Tus, these men are traitors and part of Nizam's plot, you must believe me!" he quickly shouted, praying that they would not question him.

"We trust you," Tus assured as he took position beside Dastan.

"No you don't understand," Dastan pleaded with unhearing ears. "These men worked for the Hassansins and need to be cut down now before their treachery spreads! That man there is not a true priest!"

Tus put a firm hand to Dastan's cheek and waited for their eyes to lock. "We know."

It cut through Tus like a knife to see how quickly Dastan jumped to defend his words. How many times like this had Tus doubted his little brother rather than believed in the conviction of his voice?

"Let us end this," Garsiv spoke with delightful hatred.

Dastan now realized Asoka was with them. Standing a bit taller Dastan turned his gaze back to the now worried false priest. Dastan could feel the strength beside him. Tus and Garsiv stood on either side of him while Asoka and Bis flanked them.

Five to five.

Tamina stood back in the t-way of the corridor armed with her own personal dagger although she was sure she wouldn't need it. These Persian's were out for blood and for once, she agreed with them.

The false priest's fear left him as his anger surfaced. "How? How could you know?"

None of them had been expecting to be discovered. It was supposed to be a surprise attack. Yet here they all stood ready for a fight unquestionably.

Tamina glowered from the sidelines. "You of all people should know the answer to such a question. Surrender now and perhaps I will show mercy towards your families." She had no intention of guaranteeing their lives.

Wrath filled his eyes. They all thought themselves better than he? They were looking down on him! So be it.

Suddenly the false priest yelled at the top of his lungs, and the five charged.

Asoka and these Persian men were well trained and were easily at a higher level of skill than these spies. Swords clashed. The priest brought his sword down upon Dastan hoping to take him to hell with him. Dastan threw up both of his swords to block the blow and found himself dropping to a knee in alarm. He just had no strength!

Tus and Garsiv cut down their attackers like lightning, and just as Dastan barely blocked yet another blow, his brothers swords closed in to protect him and found their mark in Dastan's attacker. Tus's sword jabbed into the priest's side with Garsiv sword sinking into his collar bone and up into his neck. Blood splattered everywhere and across Dastan. It took a minute for Dastan's hazy eyes to register his own sword in the priest's chest. With blood gurgling out of his mouth, the priest crumbled to the ground. Likewise, Asoka and Bis were both able to dispatch their enemies swiftly, as the carnage lay in the corridor in one horrid lump.

Dastan, gasping for breath, tried to rise, only to slowly stumble backwards until his back hit the wall and with all the adrenaline leaving his body, crumbled to the floor.

Instantly he was surrounded by his brothers and Bis all putting a hand on him with concern. Had he been cut? This weak and frail Dastan was not the strong and fearless warrior they all had remembered.

Dastan barely knew that his kin was fussing over him, asking him questions as to what he had been doing, but he was just too tired. _Was it really over?_ He thought as his eyes remained fixed on the bodies that tainted the hall. How many others did he need to hunt down before his family was safe? Dastan's lethargic eyes blankly looked at all those around him. His family's frantic looks were familiar to him and which no longer had an effect on him. However, as he continued to ignore the prodding for injuries by the concerned men around him, he looked beyond them to where Tamina stood, what little remaining hope he had at protecting her innocence eyes from such horrors vanished. She held a forced serious look, but he could easily see beyond it to what she was truly feeling. Clearly she worked to suppress the bile within her by using her outrage as a coping mechanism due to the fact she hadn't witnessed such brutal deaths up close before… and it was all his fault.

Tus, Garsiv, and Bis all could now see that Dastan was just beyond exhaustion with no real new injuries to speak of. It was a small relief in the least.

"So who were these guys?" Bis asked.

Tus and Garsiv, who continued squatting down in front of their brother looked to each other in thought. They had given up on Dastan finding his voice at the moment.

"Perhaps," Tus began, but then stopped and looked up to a pale Tamina. "Is he aware?" he cryptically asked as he gestured to her head guard. He wasn't going to assume just because Asoka met them leaving the maze that he knew its secrets.

"Yes he is aware," she responded easily, happy to change her focus again. She was still unnerved by the whole morning's events.

"Right," Tus looked back at Garsiv. "They are probably just more of the Hassansin's spies."

"But how did they know we were coming for them?" Garsiv countered. "We've been here for days without incident. How would Dastan now suddenly know about them, and why did they attack now?"

Bis looked at his best friend who was clearly still in a depressed daze.

"When Dastan lived in that other time," Tus continued. "He had to have found out that there were spies here after I was killed," he reasoned.

Dastan wasn't registering what was being said directly in front of him. Was he going mad?

Garsiv still had questions. "But then why didn't he say anything when he returned to _this_ timeline back when he changed our entry into the Alamutain Palace into a better, peaceful arrival?"

Yes, Dastan decided. He had gone mad. There was no way he was hearing what he thought he was hearing.

"Perhaps later we can see if there are any other remaining pieces of this puzzle we can derive from the altered past," Tus decided.

…_Slap_

Tus and Garsiv stopped their bantering thoughts as everyone's sights fell onto Dastan.

"I'm dreaming again," he mumbled aloud. "That has to be it."

Tus suddenly grabbed Dastan by the shoulders. "No Dastan! You are not dreaming!" he tried desperately to be heard.

Yet Dastan didn't even bother looking into his eyes. His vision was far off. "You couldn't have known," he said exasperated. What then was real?

Tamina then took command of the situation and swatted his brothers out of the way so that she was right in front on him. Kneeling down, she placed both hands on either side of his face making solid eye contact. His face was rough and slick with sweat. His hair was nearly soaked and sticking to his face. He had the most lost look in his eyes that pleaded with Tamina on a whole new level. It was as if he'd rather die than continue in this way and she nearly wanted to weep from such a thought. He was a shell of a man who was injured, malnourished, plagued with nightmares, and out of strength and hope.

"Dastan," she spoke gently. "I told them about the dagger… just this morning."

Brown eyes darted between the four people around him before resting back to Tamina. "What?"

"This is no dream," she dropped her hands. "They came to me for help; to seek guidance from those within a spiritual city. To find some way to help you through the darkness you now find yourself in. They needed to know, for your sake. There was no other way to help you through the pain you have been forced to carry alone."

She watched as his mind began processing what she was saying. Could it really be true?

"They now know everything, Dastan." Her heart didn't know what to feel for this man. She had never imagined that someone, outside of her upbringing, would be willing to suffer so much for the sake of her secret.

Tus's heart warmed at the sight of Dastan's face slowing changing. He no longer had the eyes of a dead man. "We have seen glimpses of what you went through," Tus spoke drawing Dastan's attention. "You never need to be alone again."

"How?" was all he could ask.

"The Sandglass," Tamina responded. "The sands within somehow carry the altered past. We've never noticed it before because the dagger is always within its golden keep."

"Dastan, what are you doing?" Garsiv asked in alarm as Dastan tried to stand up.

"I need to see it," Dastan said as he used the wall and Tus's shoulder to steady him as he stood.

"You should rest and –"

"No," Dastan cut off Tus. "I need to see it now."

Tamina stood up as well and only hesitated briefly. "If closure is what you seek… Asoka, get some of your trusted men to disguise the passageway to the caverns. And look over the bodies to see if there are any marks or trinkets that can alert us if there are any more traitors within my kingdom. We are going back down to the Sandglass."

Dastan's mind was trying to grasp this monumental shift in his life and was unable to even acknowledge a thank you to Tamina for her understanding. Garsvi stood next to Dastan, wrapping his arm around his waist to help take weight off his brother's injured leg. Garsiv looked and saw a small trail of blood from Dastan's ankle down the hall, and was hoping his distraught brother hadn't left a trail of blood throughout the whole palace. They didn't need a servant or a guard following it down right now.

With an arm wrapped around his owned chest, Bis reached down and picked up his Prince's duel swords, wincing from the pain from his healing wounds. Bis knew that Dastan would want his weapons even though the immediate danger had been dealt with.

* * *

It took a little doing and a lot of time, before the glow of the Sandglass was visible. And the moment Dastan saw the swilling sands, his breath hitched as the painful memories of what happened within these cavern walls assaulted his mind. The group stopped for a moment on the flat ground before the rocky cavern bridge that lead to the base of the Sandglass. Dastan felt the shifting weight from Garsiv who seemed to pull Dastan closer to his side, as if he could sense his young brother's change in emotion.

However, Dastan quickly shrugged off Garsiv's support. "What's the matter, Brother?"

"I need a moment," Dastan said as he took a few painful steps away from the group and moved towards the bridge.

"Dastan, what are you doing?" Tus asked as he grabbed his forearm. "You are in no shape to climb down to the Sandglass."

"I need a mo-"

"I don't think-"

A glare from Dastan made Tus let go as he threw up his hands in a small 'I-give-up' gesture.

"Fine."

"What?" Dastan asked with annoyance.

"Go," Tus waved one hand in the direction of the Sandglass. '_Go, be an idiot and climb down a dangerous rocky bridge when you can barely walk and bleeding everywhere.' _Tus thought to himself.

But Dastan did not move. He held a look that clearly stated to Tus that he knew exactly what he was thinking.

An amused scoff from Garsiv echoed in the caverns as Tus gestured once again for Dastan to head down to the Sandglass.

This time, Dastan turned and started his long and painful walk down to the base platform. The Sands whipped violently around the glass as if sensing the man that had used its power. The light in the caverns flashed between pure white and blood red as the whole cavern seemed to now truly reflect the turmoil of Dastan's heart.

The deafening sounds, fire flickering light, and overwhelming presence of world shattering power caused Dastan's stomach to churn as his mind felt like he was being swept up into a vortex, but as he forced his gaze down at his feet he discovered they were still on solid rock. The panic he hadn't known that was rising, now subsided. He could do this. He could face this.

Half way across the bridge, that strange and unfathomable power he had encountered these past few months, engulfed him fully once more as the sands transformed into images unexplainable.

"_What you are looking at, is the walk of a man who just lost everything." _

Dastan was startled to hear his own voice and he froze for only a heartbeat. The Sands towering above him had given-way to show the moment in a time he only thought was in his head. With each painful step closer to the Sandglass, more and more images filled the sands and voices overlaid with other voices echoed off the walls in a nearly undecipherable jumbled mess.

"_You bear a remarkable resemblance to the disgraced prince who fled after murdering the King," _the all assuming Sheik Amar's voice surfaced loud and clear.

Dastan kept limping onward.

"_Nizam is coming to kill us. He needs me dead, I need to know why," _Dastan's voice pleaded above.

"_Dastan, the sands contained within the Sandglass are incredibly powerful," _Tamina somberly revealed.

The images were getting clearer; he was nearly at its base.

"_Hassansins no longer exist. You always thought you were so clever!" _Garsiv spat.

"_Have I ever told you about the Ngbaka?" _Sheik Amar asked.

Dastan briefly smirked at the memory.

"_So desperate to prove you're more than something the King scraped off the streets," _Nizam sneered.

Dastan craned his neck around in attempts to expel the rising fury at hearing that voice.

"_No matter your skills as a promoter, you can't organize an ostrich race with just- one-OSTRICH!" _Sheik Amar screamed with furry.

"_If you're going to kill me, best you do it now," _Tus' voice ghosted across Dastan's ears in an unnatural calm.

"_Is something wrong Dastan? You know you can trust me Boy," _Nizam tried to manipulate.

"_If we don't stop him our world will end," _Tamina foretold.

Dastan began circulating around the pillar to his left, dragging his hand along the rough surface, as his eyes blankly looked down. He didn't need to look up to watch the images. He could see it all in his mind.

"_Dastan, I'm sorry… Save the Empire," _Garsiv's dying voice nearly brought Dastan to his knees from the memory. The blood gurgling up from his lips. The loss of yet another soul he had tried so desperately to save.

"_I don't think you should do this," _Tamina whispered.

Dastan took in another ragged breath as he paused on the back side of the sandglass, away from the audience he had from afar, and looked up to see the Tamina he had known. That tender moment they had shared had been all the fuel he had needed to soldier on in the face of sheer insanity. Dastan stretched his hand up higher up the glass as if to touch such a moment again. Then it flashed to desperation and pain.

"_It's not my destiny, it's yours. It always has been," _Tamina cried.

Dastan looked away as fast as his fleeing eyes could.

"_We know Dastan was many things, but not a coward," _Tus stated firmly.

Dastan had never heard those words before. An odd sensation filled him as the refreshing realization occurred to him that he didn't know everything. There were still secrets and mysteries in the world that continued to live on without him having to carry its weight on his shoulders. Dastan took another deep breath and limped onward, continuing to drag his hand mindlessly along the glass until he was once again back into view of the others.

"_Let me go," _Tamina pleaded.

Dastan froze.

"_I'm not letting you go!" _he had screamed.

Dastan's fingers brushed a jagged spot and looked up. It was the scar.

"_To act upon what I know is right, no matter the consequences." _

He had done it… hadn't he? He had acted rightly and in turn saved the world.

It was real. Everything from his memories had actually happened. Dastan let his hand drop from the scared glass and instantly the rushing sound of moving sand died down and the glow returned to a slow pulsing of changing color. But his mind was still a storm of thoughts and emotions of what he had witnessed again and what still was only in his mind. Dastan's eyes closed. The part of him that had wished that this was all a dream, that he had somehow got knocked out during the siege of Alamut, was finally gone.

Eyes slowly opened and were once again met with these strange sands of the gods. However his gaze left the Sandglass almost instantly, as Dastan turned and looked up to the people who patiently waited for him. Relief filled his body with an exhale that almost seemed like he had been holding it for weeks. They were all there. Tus, Garsiv, Bis, and Tamina all stood there supportively and very much alive.

"Amazing," he mumbled.

This Tamina had actually taken a great risk in showing his brothers and best friend the secret of her city, and it was all for his sake. Perhaps his Tamina wasn't all that far away from him after all.

Now the weight of the world was taken off his shoulders for now he could once again confine in those who were his family. Their bond, his bond, could be forged once again.

Dastan took a deep breath as he stepped away from the pillar and nearly swore as his legs nearly buckled out from under him. Had he really grown this weak? It was as if for the first time in weeks Dastan was truly able to see the condition he was in and how he was now paying for his actions. Once he was halfway there across the bridge, Dastan was forced to stop as his body demanded rest. He cursed softly at his weakness as he leaned up against a stalagmite to catch his breath. He closed his eyes as he tried to push the pain to the back of his mind. _'Just a few more minutes'_ he told himself. Just a few more minutes to walk back to his room, and then he would allow his body to rest. Suddenly, firm hands gently grabbed his arm and lifted it around broad shoulders before wrapping around the back of his waist. Dastan opened his eyes to see Garsiv take his weight and help him walk the rest of the way. Dastan half expect to see Tus with a look that said 'I told you so', as any brother would rightly say. But as he and Garsiv reached the top, Dastan saw no such look.

"Are you ready?" was all Tus asked as he put a hand on Dastan's back.

It was such a simple question but Dastan knew Tus meant much more than if he was ready to leave. Was he ready to move forward and stop reliving the past? Was he ready to finally open up to them and let others help carry him out of pit of torment that he fallen into? Was he ready to live life again?

"Yes."

It was still so amazing to Dastan to think that these precious people standing before him had not only just witnessed some of his most emotionally horrific moments in his history without outbreak, but were also able to stand by his side now with no gaping mouths, harsh words, endless questions, nor doubt. Yes this was a family he could be at peace with again.

"Then let us go," Tus encouraged with only the traces of tears in his eyes.

It took twice as long to get back to the palace halls as Dastan's strength all but had left him. Tus had to go on the other side of Dastan to help Garsiv keep their brother up straight and moving. Asoka met them at the entrances of the caverns to update Tamina of the progress. Each of the traitors had had the same small medallion around their necks that held a design not of their people. Asoka already had one of his men lining up every single palace servant and slave to verify if any others had such jewelry.

Once they returned to the scene of the fight, they saw that Asoka's trusted men had made a temporary wall with a giant tapestry. A few rows of bricks were stacked below the edge of the massive tapestry to create the illusion of a complete wall. A posted guard pulled back the cloth allowing the royals exit. Dastan carefully stepped over the little wall as a servant filled in the cracks with dirt. Once all passed through, they stopped above the corpses.

"Very good Asoka," Tamina said as she kept her eyes up as to not look down at the slayed bodies. "I am sure you will do well in creating a believable story of Dastan's heroics in putting an end to these traitor's lives."

"Yes, my Princess"

It went without saying, but all were glad Asoka had thought to cover up the branching off hallway. Even though the passage below could only be opened if you know how to operate the mechanism, these halls weren't normally occupied and the servants and inspectors who would be arriving did not need to know of the area at all.

"A quick and clever disguise," Garsiv praised.

"Indeed," Tamina said with pride in her voice. "And please see to it that the hidden hall is cleaned as well by the guardians. It seems our hero has bled through his bandages and has left a trail of blood," she said with a little smirk as Dastan look down at his swollen ankle and honestly took noticed of the blood rather than just the throbbing pain. He looked back up at her and gave a small shrug with a smile in his eyes. Damn Hassansin weapon.

Tus and Garsiv started to guide Dastan away and around the next corner with Bis and Tamina following behind. They all were in sore need of breakfast and a bath, yet the moment they rounded the corner they were taken aback when they saw an old servant woman on her hands and knees scrubbing away a trail of blood. The old woman looked up and glared at the young Persian prince as she shoved her brush into the wooden bucket of water causing soapy suds to spill over. It was clear that the woman had a few choice words and scolding to give to Dastan, but held her tongue in the presence of her Princess.

Instead the woman stood up and made her way towards them. Dastan couldn't help but tense up a bit as the direct path of the woman was to him. When she had reached the Persians, the old woman got down on her knees and ripped her apron into pieces. Without warning she proceeded to rewrap Dastan's ankle to stop the bleeding.

"I don't need to clean up your blood throughout the palace a second time," she couldn't help but mumbled quietly. However, it was heard clearly and Bis was the first one to let out a laugh before the others joined in soft chuckles.

"My apologies," Dastan said sincerely.

"Yes, well now hurry along before you bleed through the cloth." The woman said as she stood up to let the royalty pass.

Tus laughed at the mess they were in, yet for once they were all together in like mindedness. "Oh the stories I'll have for your children!" he laughed all the harder.

Dastan rolled his eyes but smiled all the same. It was so good to have their trust once again.

"I'm not going to wait that long," Garsiv chimed in "I have new Uncle Dastan stories to tell my kids."

Tamina shook her head with a smile as they continued down the halls listening to the Persian men joke to one another, not as royalty but as brothers.

TBC….

A/N: I must say I had a different idea on how to end this chapter…but I knew you guys already hated me for the long wait so I didn't want to piss you guys off anymore…so I thought it best not to kill off Dastan ;) I would have thought it funny, I had it all played out in my head, but you guys would not see the humor. lol.


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